


Shine Again - 120%

by maririn_no_monogatari



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anime Spoilers, F/M, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Other, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 75,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25497325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maririn_no_monogatari/pseuds/maririn_no_monogatari
Summary: He was blinding.Flying up into the air, back arched, arm pulled back, open palm poised to strike.Akaashi Keiji knew at that moment that Bokuto Koutaro was a star.And he felt the inescapably pulled into his orbit.*********************In a society where sub-genders still determine one's place in society, Akaashi Keiiji enrolls in Fukurodani Academy after seeing Bokuto Koutarou play in a high school tournament match, hoping to experience something extraordinary in his mundane life. The story follows Akaashi as he joins the volleyball team and meets members of other Haikyuu teams as they all navigate from adolescence into adulthood in a changing society of sub-gender dynamics.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 123
Kudos: 217
Collections: maazeesfavs





	1. A Star

**Author's Note:**

> The story is set in the omegaverse (I debated long and hard on this), but the idea took root and I really wanted to get the story out and explore that universe with a twist. The focus won't be so much on alpha/omega/beta relationships as much as how those dynamics affect the world in which the story takes place. The pace of the story will start out slow but will probably stay pretty consistent in terms of pacing. 
> 
> The story will borrow heavily from events in the manga/anime but with their own spin. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I am ignorant when it comes to volleyball and my only knowledge of volleyball comes from Haikyuu and google. Please forgive any factual inconsistencies/errors when it comes to the game.

* * *

He was blinding.

Flying up into the air, back arched, arm pulled back, open palm poised to strike.

Akaashi Keiji knew at that moment that Bokuto Koutaro was a star.

And he felt the inescapably pulled into his orbit.

* * *

_Hayabashi Pharmaceuticals CEO Moriyama held a press conference earlier today, unveiling his company’s new suppressant drug, Praetereo which received final approval from the National Drug Administration earlier this year. According to CEO Moriyama, the new drug, which has undergone an extensive 10-year trial, has significantly less side effects than other suppressants on the market, with only a 1.9% chance of leading to permanent Omega infertility despite prolonged use._

_Praetereo marks the second innovative product launch from Hayabashi Pharmaceuticals since Moriyama was named CEO 3 years ago. 2 years ago, under the direction of CEO Moriyama, Hayabashi Pharmaceuticals released the Suavitatis Patch, with a proven 99.3% efficacy in omega pheromone masking._

_Following CEO Moriyama’s announcement, share prices for Hayabashi Pharmaceuticals went by 43% with experts predicting that Hayabashi Pharmeceuticals is poised to overtake rival Nagai Pharmeceuticals as the leader in the Omega pharmaceutical care market._

_In other news, criminal charges were laid against a 54-year old Alpha male, Hachibi Yukito, for aggravated assault, sexual assault and forced bonding. The victim, a 23-year old male omega, was not named under the Omega Protection Act. Today marks the 8 th anniversary of the proclamation of the Omega Protection Act, a law that has been viewed by many experts as the catalyst for the advancement of Omega rights and protections. _

Akaashi Keiji sat at the dining room table, flipping through high school pamphlets as the evening news droned on in the background, his long fingers smoothing out the creases on the glossy photo-paper, his eyes running impassively over the pictures of smiling students in uniforms.

Akaashi Keiji was currently a third-year student at Mori Middle School located centrally in Tokyo. He was, for all extents and purposes, best described as ordinary. His grades were good, bolstered by his top marks in literature. He was vice-captain and setter for his school’s volleyball team and member of student council. These accomplishments were the result of hard-work and diligence, not because of any innate skill or inherent talent. And because his obvious lack of talent or skill, Akaashi remained largely unnoticed by his peers, although it may also have been in part to his calm and detached manner.

His reticence was often mistaken for shyness but his limited interaction with his peers stemmed from a preference for books over self-indulgent conversations. When he did speak, his words were sparse, polite – in tone only - and truthful. He didn’t bother with flattery, his utterances were often blunt, even cutting at times, but because of his lack of emotion in their delivery, most people were often left confused as to whether Akaashi’s words were meant as an insult, a compliment or simple statement of fact.

“Have you narrowed your choices?” Akaashi’s mother asked as he readied her son’s bento for the next day, carefully portioning out a single serving of rice.

Akaashi took after his mother more than his father. Like her, he had dark hair that curled at the ends – although in his case it was cropped short - dark blue eyes, and a small mouth. His drooping eyelids and thick dark brows, which slanted upwards, were like his father’s, a large and imposing man with a perpetually bored yet severe expression.

“Yes mother,” Akaashi replied dutifully, “I have narrowed by choices to Fukurodani Academy and Suzumeoka High. They are ranked equally for academics and I have received recommendations to both.” 

“What about volleyball? Do they both have competitive teams?” Akaashi’s father asked gruffly from his seat in the living room where he sat watching the evening news.

“Suzumeoka has consistently qualified for the Spring Nationals most years although Coach said their team may not qualify this year due to injuries suffered by two members of their regular line-up,” Akaashi replied, picking up another pamphlet and glancing at the black, gold and white uniforms of the Fukurodani athletics club. “Fukurodani has qualified for the Spring Nationals less consistently than Suzumeoka but they are predicted qualify this year and go far, something about a strong group of first-year recruits and a new ace. They are even ranked in the top 8 teams in Tokyo this year.”

“Hn.” Akaashi’s father grunted in response. “Do you plan on continuing volleyball?”

“I haven’t decided,” Akaashi replied thinking of his mediocre middle school team. His skills as a middle-school setter were sufficient to warrant him a recommendation to both Suzumeoka and Fukurodani. However, like his teammates, he felt no particular passion for the sport, but he dutifully gave it his all, as was expected of him. 

“Being on a sports team is a beneficial club activity when applying to universities,” Akaashi’s mother added. “Many employers also look favourably on candidates with team sports experience: it reflects an ability to work well with others, even more so if you can secure the position of captain.”

Akaashi simply nodded, knowing his mother was right. A means to an end. Being part of sports team, especially a top-ranked team, would increase his employment prospects in industries that remained Alpha-centric, despite the slow and gradual push for equality and inclusion. Akaashi knew that his Alpha parents, his mother especially, had high hopes that he would present as an Alpha, but with him rapidly approaching the age of 15 and absolutely no sign of a change in his hormones, it was more than likely than not that Akaashi was destined to be a Beta. 

Rationally, Akaashi didn’t mind the thought of being a Beta, in fact, he thought it to be preferable. As a Beta, he wouldn’t be subject to the flux of hormones, the scent of pheromones, the physiological changes and most of all, the bothersome Alpha-Omega dynamic. His mind could remain clear, an impassive observer to those around him. His parents’ hopes and expectations, however, felt heavy, squeezing his chest a little tighter each day. The suffocating weight pulled him along a strong current he desperately fought against lest he drown in the murky depths of failure and disappointment. It was unspoken but understood: if he could not be an extraordinary Alpha, then he must become a dependable Beta that would not bring shame to his Alpha family. 

The thoughts flitted through his mind for less than a second before his eyes flicked to where his father pointed the remote at the TV, flipping the channel to an economics broadcast where middle-aged men in expensive suits sat stiffly across from each other, discussing a new trade treaty between Japan and China.

“The high school qualifiers for the Tokyo representatives take place next weekend. It would be a good opportunity to observe Suzumeoka and Fukurodani. An acquaintance’s company is organizing and promoting the tournament, he could secure you an entry ticket.”

“Thank you, I would appreciate that father,” Akaashi replied although he knew that the matter had already been determined.

Akaashi’s mother glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall next to the fridge as she carefully wrapped her son’s completed bento in a plain blue furoshiki. The calendar was covered with his mother’s neat handwriting, extensively listing Akaashi’s daily activities. “Keiji, it’s past 10 o’clock. You should go to bed soon, you have student council, a meeting with your advisor and volleyball practice after school tomorrow. 

Akaashi nodded and carefully folded up the pamphlets scattered across the table, stacking in them into a neat pile. “Good night, mother, father,” he stated quietly before climbing the stairs to his room.

His room, like himself, was plain and ordinary. A single bed was placed in the corner, covered by a dark blue blanket. A small desk was pushed against the wall next to a window, the curtains drawn, Akaashi’s notebooks were stacked neatly to the side, school bag sitting on the floor next to the desk chair. There were no posters on the white walls, no pictures on his desk. Stark, plain and utterly lacking in character. The only item that reflected any individuality was the large bookcase next to the door, overflowing with well-thumbed and carefully shelved novels.

Akaashi quickly stripped himself out of his school’s tracksuit, dumping his discarded clothes in the hamper at the foot of his bed and donned his pajamas before padding over the bookcase and picking out a novel. Novel selected, he turned off the overhead light and climbed into bed, clicking on the small lamp clipped to the headboard of his bed and began to read.

* * *

Akaashi studiously watched the game below him from his seat in the front row of the balcony, his interest in the players on the court masked by his indifferent expression. In the section to his right, a cheer squad dressed in light blue and grey track suits chanted “Suzumeoka! Go go sparrows! Soar and flock together!” above a light blue banner inscribed with the words _Discipline brings Victory._

The athletes on the court below were dressed in the same light blue and grey. The team moved about the court, perfectly in sync, their movements clean, precise, and purposeful. Akaashi glanced down at the middle-aged coach seated on the bench by the court, rectangular glasses perched on his angular nose, watching his players with a stern expression as he made notes on his clipboard. Next to him sat a tall student athlete still in his tracksuit, his dark hair smartly cropped in a crew cut, his lips pinched in a thin line as he watched his teammates. One of the injured starters. A wing spiker, he thought to himself before revising his assessment to middle blocker when he noticed the student’s fingers set in splints, likely the result of a poorly placed block or contact with a particularly powerful spike. After watching the game for a few more minutes and noting the high-level of technique displayed by each player, he concluded that the blocker’s injuries were the result of contact with a powerful spike.

“Chance ball!” came the call from Suzumeoka’s libero after he proficiently lifted the ball up in a perfect arc to his setter who jumped lightly and tossed to his left spiker. Akaashi noted that although he executed a technically perfect spike, Suzumeoka’s left wing spiker was hesitant in his jumps and landings. Spying the brace on the player’s right ankle, Akaashi concluded that he was the second injured player from the starting line up. Injured, but well enough to play. At least for now.

Akaashi nodded to himself in satisfaction as Suzumeoka’s technical and efficient plays won them the first set. Their style of play suited him. Efficient with no extra effort expended, their style of play stood out from the other teams littering the adjacent courts, many of their movements frantic and flailing.

During the short break Akaashi turned his attention to other side of the court where the opposing team’s supporters cheered in red tracksuits with white stripes running down the sides of the suits’ legs and sleeves. Below them hung their team’s banner, a deep red with a single word written in thick black brushstrokes: _Connect!_ Akaashi’s brow furrowed slightly at the odd slogan searching his memory for any information he might have on the opposing team.

 _‘Nekoma’_ , he thought to himself. He’d heard that they were once a strong team that was now on a steady decline since the retirement of their famous coach. Although still relatively strong, they hadn’t qualified for the Spring Nationals for several years now.

The Nekoma players were currently congregated around their coach as they circulated water bottles amongst each other. Oddly, while it was clear that they were listening to their coach, Akaashi noticed that the players’ eyes were fixed on Suzumeoka’s team, their expressions calm, the glint in their eyes sharp and calculating. 

Akaashi was surprised at their calmness. He thought Nekoma would have been more agitated, having lost the first set.

The ref’s whistle pierced the air, signalling the start of the second set and the players from both teams filtered back onto the court. Both teams returned with their original line-ups and Akaashi’s attention turned to the reserve players standing in their designated areas next to the court, his attention caught by two Nekoma players. One was tall with black hair that stood at gravity defying angles, causing Akaashi to wonder if it was a bizarre style choice or the worst case of bedhead he’d ever seen. He stood with a lanky ease, well muscled but still lean, his red uniform shirt sloppily tucked into his red shorts, his knees bare of any knee pads. _Substitute middle blocker,_ Akaashi concluded. The other player was much shorter with light brown hair, trimmed short and tidy. He stood straight-backed and alert, his muscles compact and well-defined, his uniform shirt white with black and red accents. _Libero_ , Akaashi identified. What captured Akaashi’s attention, however, was not the stark difference in their physical appearance but the way they stood next to each, angled slightly away from the other, purposefully ignoring each other.

‘ _Must be bad blood_ ’ he thought to himself.

Nekoma’s line rotation moved the starting middle blocker away from the net and the small libero jogged onto the court to replace him on the back line. Akaashi vaguely recalled the libero’s presence during the first set but had been too busy observing Suzumeoka’s team to pay him much mind until now. Nekoma's serving player fumbled the serve into the net, losing the point and the serve. 

Suzmeoka’s ace moved into position to serve and tossed the ball up in the air after the ref’s whistle.

 _‘Floater_ ,’ Akaashi noted. The ace’s ankle must be hurting for him to switch from his regular jump serves to the float serve. ‘ _A good strategy_ ,’ he thought with approval.

Technically sound, the serve floated over the net, slow but with an uncertain trajectory. Nekoma’s libero called for the receive and watched the ball intently before smoothly shifting his weight to his left and easily lifting the ball back into the air towards his setter. Nekoma’s right spiker slammed it down onto Suzumeoka’s court with ease. Point to Nekoma.

The game continued with the score 8-5 in favour of Suzumeoka. The libero rotated back out on Nekoma’s serve, the starting middle blocker going back up to the net. As the libero returned to the reserve player area, the substitute middle blocker said something to him, his mouth turned up in a sardonic grin. The libero scowled and snapped back at the blocker. They were too far away for Akaashi for hear what they said to each other over the din in the gymnasium but it earned each of them a sharp reprimand from Nekoma’s vice captain who stood in the box with the other reserve players. 

The score crept up to 17-10 with Nekoma continuing to trail behind in points. It was once again Suzumeoka’s serve when the tall middle blocker strolled over to the edge of the court, holding up a player substitution card. To Akaashi’s surprise, Nekoma’s left wing spiker was called off the court for the substitution. At the same time another one of Nekoma’s spikers rotated off the back row and the libero also stepped back onto the court.

 _‘Odd_ ,’ Akaashi frowned. He didn’t understand why Nekoma would switch to a heavily defensive formation when they were trailing so badly in points, having already lost the first set. At this point, their only hope of surviving the game was to go on the offensive and rack up as many points as possible.

Suzumeoka’s serve was picked up by Nekoma’s libero, the setter tossed straight up, one of Nekoma’s spiker’s springing forward from the rear for a back attack.

‘ _Offense from the back… nice try_ ,’ Akaashi noted idly as the back attack was easily lofted back up by Suzumeoka’s libero to the setter who then tossed to their ace. Nekoma’s black-haired middle blocker matched the trajectory of the opposing ace, leaping up to block. But Suzumeoka’s ace was their ace for a reason as he shifted his aim to execute a straight shot, targeting a gap in the defence to the left and behind the leaping blocker.

Two resounding thuds reverberated throughout the gymnasium as the ace’s spike slammed into the blocker’s hands and down onto the court below, the ace staring in shock at where the ball had landed by his feet and bounced away.

A loud cheer erupted from Nekoma’s cheering section, cheer sticks waving in excitement.

“Ye-ah!” the middle blocker crowed lazily, raising his hands up towards the ceiling in a victory celebration.

Akaashi couldn’t help but be impressed. The blocker had repositioned his form mid-jump, shifting his arms to the left, straight and strong, palms wide with finger bent at an angle, right into the path of the ace’s spike. Akaashi wondered whether the successful block was due to skill or luck. 

After a few more rallies, Akaashi concluded it was skill. _‘Read blocker_ ,’ he surmised, noting that while the middle blocker’s mouth was curved in a permanent smirk, his eyes were sharp and observant, locked onto Suzumeoka’s setter at all times. Moreover, he never jumped to block until the setter tossed. While this delay meant that there were blocks that couldn’t be made in time, the blocks he did make were that much more efficient.

Akaashi also noted with some disdain that while waiting at the net for the next serve, the middle blocker was constantly mouthing off at Suzumeoka’s players. Whatever he was saying, it was having an impact as the Suzumeoka players’ shoulders would stiffen in irritation although they staunchly refused to respond to the blocker’s taunts. ‘ _Cocky Alpha_ ,’ he thought to himself bitterly.

As the points started to rack up in Nekoma’s favour, Akaashi realized with a start that his earlier observations about the missed block opportunities was flawed. Although his strategy of waiting until the setter tossed resulted in the blocker’s inability to block some shot directly, he was cutting off the spiker’s field of vision, leaving the spikers with no option but to spike to Nekoma’s waiting libero. Despite whatever personal conflict these two players had, their defensive teamwork was solid.

When it was time for the cocky middle blocker to rotate to the back row, Akaashi was surprised when he wasn’t subbed off. With the libero already on the court, he couldn’t swap with the libero but he would have thought the coach would have subbed him with an opposite hitter. Middle blockers, after all, were well suited to aerial defence but were typically weaker at receiving serves and digging.

Nekoma’s strategy became clear when, two rallies later, Suzumeoka’s ace hit a cross-shot and the cocky middle blocker dove forward with surprising fluidity for his tall frame, hands clasped together, arms extended as he slid belly-first along the floor and intercepted the spike from its angled trajectory towards the edge of the court, barely within bounds. While the receive lacked the finesse of Nekoma’s libero, the rotation of cross shot was neutralized, soaring back up towards the waiting setter. Another point to Nekoma.

The tension continued to rise on Suzumeoka’s side of the court as the players movements, while still disciplined and controlled, started to take on a frantic energy. Suzumeoka’s ace had stoically continued to leap to spike his setter’s tosses but was starting to visibly favour his left, uninjured leg. He was soon called off the court by the coach and replaced by a substitute member.

Suzumeoka’s substitute spiker must be a first year, Akaashi concluded. He was skilled with a powerful spike but he lacked the polished and controlled movements of the starting line-up. Like his teammates, he was strategic, carefully aiming for gaps in Nekoma’s defence, taking advantage of the line rotations, especially when Nekoma’s setter rotated to the back row for the serve receive.

Like Suzumeoka’s ace, the first-year spiker was also well practiced in the jump serve. The crowd roared when the first-year executed a particularly lethal serve, aimed at the setter as he dashed out of the libero’s way and back up to the net. Nekoma’s libero managed to save the ball but his receive was awkward, having to maneuver around his setter. The ball flew up uncontrolled and high, arcing back over the net as Suzumeoka’s first-year spiker raced forward, leapt and spiked hard, the ball speeding back down towards Nekoma’s libero, crouched awkwardly on the court, not yet recovered from his previously receive, on a collision course with his face. In a show of athleticism, Nekoma’s libero twisted his body to face the ceiling, his back to the net, his arms coming up to intercept the spike, sending it backwards back over the net to land just within the bounds Suzumeoka’s court. Nekoma’s point.

A deafening roar rocked the gymnasium as the crowd collectively leapt to their feet, cheering and applauding the libero. “Yaku! Yaku! Guardian of Defence Yaku!” Nekoma’s cheering squad called at the top of their lungs.

It was then that Akaashi was shocked to the core, not by the stunning display of the libero, Yaku’s, athleticism, but what he saw as the libero climbed back to his feet and was jostled by his ecstatic teammates.

The libero’s shirt had become untucked from his shorts and slipped over his shoulder, exposing the base of his neck where it met his left shoulder. And there it was, the unmistakable black patch, a heavy-duty omega scent blocker. And as Yaku lifted his shirt to tuck it back into his shorts, Akaashi saw the angry bruising along his lower abdomen left by suppressant injections.

Yaku was an Omega.

An Omega playing on a competitive high school team, part of the starting line-up, going toe to toe with Alphas.

Granted, not all the players were Alphas, the teams were peppered with Beta players as well, but competitive sports, at the high school level were dominated by Alphas. The further up the rankings you went, the more the teams were populated with Alphas and at the professional level, almost all the players were guaranteed to be Alphas.

It wasn’t that Omegas weren’t allowed to play; it was just a physiological reality. When young, the differences weren’t as noticeable and even at the middle-school level, some Omegas were still competitive. But it was an undeniable fact that by high school, the physical differences between Omegas and Alphas were stark. Upon presenting as Omega, usually between the ages of 11 to 14, an Omega’s system would increasingly be flooded with Omega hormones, making it harder put on and maintain muscle. And while advances in suppressant technology had minimized the more debilitating symptoms of heats, heats still posed a disadvantage to Omegas. On the other hand, upon presenting, an Alpha’s physical advantages only grew. While Alphas already tended to be larger prior to presenting, usually around the age of 13 to 15, they typically went through an accelerated growth spurt upon presenting, both in height and muscle mass.

No push for equality among the sub-genders could trump biology. It was a simple fact.

When the ref blew his whistle, the boisterous celebration died down and the players returned to their positions. Capitalizing on the incredible feat of their libero, Nekoma carried forward on that momentum, winning the second set in a stunning upset.

As the teams gathered around their respective coaches, Akaashi saw that he wasn’t the only one who had noticed the libero’s scent blocker patch. Suzumeoka’s first-year spiker stared at the Omega libero as he toweled off the sweat from his face, his mouth turned down in a dark scowl; being bested by an Omega clearly did not sit well with the young Alpha. 

The first-year spiker continued to scowl as the teams lined back up for the third set. Akaashi noted that Nekoma’s cocky blocker remained in play, Nekoma continuing with its defensive formation.

The first-year spiker’s irritation at Nekoma’s libero became even more evident as he repeatedly called for tosses that he viciously spiked at the libero. Unlike his spike during the second set, these spikers were intentionally aimed at the libero’s face. It got to the point that Nekoma’s cocky blocker stopped watching the setter and simply moved to block the first-year spiker, his fellow middle blocker following suit. And despite losing points, the first-year spiker continued with his vicious attacks, his setter continuing to dutifully send tosses as he called for them. As his anger grew, his spikes became stronger and stronger, ricocheting off the blockers’ hands, Nekoma’s libero diving to dig up the rebounds as the blockers yelled “one touch!”.

Nekoma’s coach called for a time-out and approached the ref, gesturing at the opposing team’s spiker. The ref simply shrugged and ordered the coach back to his place on the bench. Clearly frustrated by the ref’s response, Nekoma’s coach vainly tried to catch the other coach’s eye but Suzumeoka’s coach studiously ignored the attempts to get his attention, pretending to write on his clipboard.

A restless murmuring started to travel through the crowd, many in the audience clearly uncomfortable with what was happening in the court below. Although his ability to detect Alpha pheromones was non-existent compared to that of an Omega or Alpha, he could sense from the nervous shifting of the Omegas seated in the gallery that several of the Alphas below were starting to release angry and frustrated pheromones.

Nekoma won the next point, the line rotating for Nekoma’s serve, bringing the cocky blocker back to the net to face the first-year spiker. Although the tenseness of his shoulders betrayed his obvious frustration, the blocker maintained his smug smirk as he chirped the opposing team’s spiker. The spiker responded and Akaashi could clearly see him mouth the word ‘Omega’ with a sneer.

Nekoma’s blocker dropped his grin, his expression turning deadly seriously as he responded, anger burning in his narrowed eyes. Whatever he said clearly struck a nerve as Suzumeoka’s spiker ducked under the net to grab the blocker by the collar of his shirt and snarled at him, his nose inches from the blocker’s face. To his credit, the blocker didn’t flinch and slapped the spikers hand away, turning to voice his protest to the ref as the ref as the ref angrily blew his whistle at the two players. Seemingly uncaring of the ref’s attention on him, the spiker took at cheap shot at the back of the blocker’s head, knocking him to the floor.

In a millisecond, all hell broke loose as a brawl erupted on the court. The air became so heavy with Alpha pheromones that even Akaashi could smell the pungent musk hanging in the air, causing many of the Omegas in the gallery to flee the gymnasium in fear and revulsion as the Alphas around him began to bristle in response.

The tournaments referees, linesmen and even players from other teams rushed the Court to pull the two teams apart. Standing up from his seat and peering intently over the balcony, Akaashi could see the original two instigators grappling on the floor in the middle of the melee. Nekoma’s blocker appeared to have recovered from the pot shot to his head and now had Suzumeoka’s spiker in a headlock, his long legs wrapped around the flailing spiker, keeping him on the floor. The spiker retaliated by sinking his teeth into the blocker’s forearm, desperately trying to loosen the headlock but the blocker refused relax his grip until the two players were grabbed by three linesmen and forcibly dragged apart.

Through it all, Nekoma’s libero stood at the back of the court, watching the chaos in front of him with pained eyes, refusing to budge despite the oppressing stench of angry and violent Alpha pheromones flooding the gymnasium. If it bad enough that even Akaashi was being affected, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like for the Omega libero.

As the two teams were finally separated and herded back to the respective ends of the court, Suzumeoka’s first-year spiker was unsurprisingly awarded a red card. More surprising was the red card also awarded to Nekoma’s cocky middle blocker, resulting in angry protests from his teammates which were quickly silenced by a sharp command from Nekoma’s coach.

While the referees conferred with the tournament’s officials, Akaashi watched as Yaku marched up to where the black-haired blocker sat slouched on the bench, the towel wrapped tightly around his right forearm. Standing in front of his teammate and glaring down at him, the libero began to yell, angrily jabbing his pointed index finger at the blocker as he yelled, his index finger making contact with the blocker’s chest as leaned forward, his voice getting hoarse.

The blocker sat still as Yaku yelled and jabbed at him, patiently waiting until the libero quieted, before he shrugged, a sad smile tugging at his lips as he reached up to gently grasp the libero’s hand and gave a soft reply. The libero’s anger visibly deflated as he pulled back his hand and plopped down on the bench next to his Alpha teammate, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. The blocker simply shrugged again and lightly patted the libero on the back as he turned his attention the referees and court officials continuing their hushed discussion in the middle of the court.

* * *

The entire sports centre was abuzz with the news of the fight between Nekoma and Suzumeoka. Several players, as well as some spectators, had been transported to the local hospital for medical evaluation and treatment and the other matches taking place in the Main Gymnasium had all been paused and postponed.

In the end, both teams had been disqualified from the tournament.

 _Young Alpha Hormones_ , the spectators whispered to each other, shaking their heads. _Alphas will be Alphas._

Other whispers were not so kind. _What is the coach thinking, having an Omega on his team? It was only a matter of time before the Omega’s pheromones triggered the Alphas._

 _Is Nekoma so much on the decline that they’re accepting Omega players because they can’t attract any Alpha talent?_ Akaashi heard another voice grumble. He glanced at the folder held the man’s hands, noting that it was emblazoned with a local sports university’s logo. A scout, he concluded. One that was clearly only interested in Alpha talent.

 _So disgraceful,_ an elderly woman sniffed to her friend. _Respectable Omegas should be honing their homemaking skills, not gallivanting around on a sports team. I wonder what his parents are thinking allowing such self-indulgent behaviour! I wouldn’t be surprised if the Omega ends up unmated or a single parent._

Akaashi frowned at those comments. As far as he could tell, no one – with the likely exception of his teammates – knew of or even noticed the libero’s Omega status until his scent blocker was accidentally revealed. Even though he couldn’t detect Omega pheromones, Akaashi would bet that none of those arrogant and smug Alphas on Suzumeoka’s team had a clue that there was an Omega playing directly across the net the net from them. And now that the libero’s status as Omega had been outed, all people could focus on was the libero’s sub-gender, not the amazing save he had made during the second set, helping his team achieve an extraordinary comeback. He idly wondered if Nekoma would have been able to win the third set had it not been for the fight that broke out between the two teams.

Akaashi shook the thoughts from his head. There was no point in wondering what could have been. And thinking about Alpha and Omega dynamics caused him a deep-seated anxiety he couldn’t quite identify. After all, as a probable Beta, these issues didn’t affect him personally. At least they shouldn’t. His hands twitched, the fingers of his left hand tracing the base of his right ring finger, a nervous habit he had picked up during middle school.

Akaashi headed towards the exit with the rest of the crowd when a voice reverberated over the intercom.

“ _Dear visitors and participants, we sincerely apologize for the disturbance in the Main Gymnasium 1 and thank you for your cooperation in vacating the premises. Incomplete matches will resume in one hour. All postponed matches have been rescheduled to commence at 5 p.m. We are deeply sorry for any inconvenience caused._

_All matches in the Secondary Gymnasium 2 are proceeding as scheduled.”_

Akaashi remembered that Fukurodani was scheduled to play in Gym 2. He checked his watch, it was 1:37 p.m. Fukurodani’s match had started at 1:30 p.m. It wasn’t too late to catch the game, Akaashi thought to himself. Even though he had already made his mind up against attending Suzumeoka next year, the analytical voice in his head reminded him that he should also observe Fukurodani’s match. After all, he may have to reconsider Fukurodani as well and revisit his options for high school.

It took Akaashi about ten minutes to weave his way through the grumbling crowd and make his way into the second gymnasium on the other side of the outdoor pavilion. He quickly checked the event board, seeing that Fukurodani Academy was playing against Nohebi High School on Court B. He glanced around, failing to see the stairs to the second floor viewing platform. Instead, he spotted the double steel doors labeled ‘Court B Viewing Area – Standing Room Only’. He could hear the squeak of shoes and the thud of the ball, letting him know that the match was fully in progress and he hurried forward.

As he pushed open the doors to the Court B viewing area, the sounds of the crowd hit him full force, the energy of the crowd, euphoric.

Akaashi froze in place, feeling as though he had been splashed with a bucket of ice-water.

There in front of him was a figure suspended in mid-leap, covered in white, black and gold, the number 12 emblazoned on his broad back, arm pulled back, wide smile on his face with open palm raised to strike.

The sound of the ball hitting the floor was deafening.

Akaashi instinctively knew at that moment that he was in the presence of a star.

He felt the inescapably pulled into his orbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Not sure how many chapters this will be, but it's probably going to be pretty long (T.T) 
> 
> Just in case you're wondering, this is my first Haikyuu fanfaction and about 9 years since I last wrote any fanfiction. >.< The idea took root in my head and it won't leave. I already have 3 chapters written but I can't promise anything on the timing of updates. 
> 
> This work is an homage to the original work and I claim no ownership over the characters or the events/words/plots borrowed from the original work.


	2. First Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi enters Fukurodani Academy and Bokuto face-to-face for the first time. 
> 
> To his surprise, Bokuto is different from what he'd imagined.

* * *

Akaashi went home in a trance, the cheers of the crowd still ringing in his ears.

On auto-pilot, he filled out the enrollment form for Fukurodani and brought it to his parents to sign. Somewhere in the haze that was his mind, he was vaguely aware that they had peppered him with questions about his choice, and that he had given them monosyllable answers. If he were to be asked, he wouldn’t be able to remember a single thing he was asked nor what he answered in return. All that mattered was that his parents had signed the form.

He didn’t choose Fukurodani with any great ambition or lofty goals. All he knew was that for the first time in his life, he felt alive, exhilarated even. Akaashi was well acquainted with hard work, but what he witnessed on the court today wasn’t hard work. It was complete and utter dedication, the kind of dedication that pulled everything into its orbit, compelling him to respond, to answer with his all. 

_Bokuto Koutaro. First Year. Ace of Fukorodani._

He didn’t aspire to reach his level. He knew that was impossible. But if he could just share some small part, bask in his light, just for a little while then, just maybe, _maybe_ , he too could feel what it was like to experience something extraordinary. 

* * *

The remainder of the school year went by quickly. Akaashi dutifully continued to apply himself to his school work, student council activities and volleyball.

His team qualified for the Tokyo Middle School tournament but was quickly eliminated in the preliminary round. Akaashi wasn’t surprised or disappointed. He knew most of his teammates put in the bare minimum, just enough not to get into trouble with the coach or their parents. And although the volleyball club continued to hold practices after their elimination, all the third years, save for Akaashi, stopped coming to practice.

“You don’t have to keep coming to practice Akaashi-kun,” his coach commented one day. “I’m sure you’re busy with schoolwork and I’m sure you want to have some fun with your friends before you graduate.”

“That’s ok sensei, as long as I’m not an inconvenience, I would like to keep attending practice until I graduate.”

“No inconvenience here,” the coach shrugged. “You’re setting a good example for your kouhais, it’s just…” his coach trailed off.

“Yes sensei?”

“I know that you’ve been accepted to Fukurodani on a recommendation and it’s commendable that you’re working on improving your skills, but… don’t be too disheartened if you don’t earn a regular spot until your second, maybe even third year. Fukurodani has recruited some strong players recently and I hear their ace is quite outstanding. A starting player and ace of the team while still in his first year… you must remember that he’s an exception to the rule.”

Akaashi nodded. His coach wasn’t telling him something he didn’t already know. He knew all of this before he made his decision to attend Fukurodani. He also knew what was left unsaid: ‘ _Don’t be disheartened if you never earn a regular spot on the team_ ’.

“Ah, but I hear that they don’t have a setter among their current first-years. I don’t know anything about any of the others that will be joining you in your year so keep up the good work! I have high hopes for you Akaashi-kun, you’re a very dependable player.”

“Thank you, sensei. I am grateful for your guidance,” Akaashi bowed deeply.

* * *

December came and Akaashi turned 15. At his request, he received a volleyball for his birthday.

He had taken to practicing his tosses in his parents’ backyard on the weekends. In his mind’s eye, he would visualize a spiker leaping into the air and he would aim his tosses at the apex of their reach, the optimal height for the spiker to apply the full downward force of their swing. It went without saying that his imaginary spiker often took on the form of Bokuto Koutarou, his muscled frame leaping high, right elbow fully bent and extended back, large palm spread wide, his two-toned black and gray hair swaying from the force of his jump, a blindingly wide smile on his face.

The weather turned colder, the evenings darker and a light dusting of snow covered the ground and Akaashi continued to practice by the light of the adjacent street lamp. The calluses on the tips of his fingers thickened and he continued to practice his tosses, to the right, to the left, forwards and back, always paying close attention to his form, striving to keep it as neutral as possible so as to not give away the direction of his tosses.

Akaashi noticed in the days following his birthday that his mother had started to withdraw from him. The calendar in the kitchen was no longer covered with Akaashi’s daily activities. Only major events such as his birthday and his graduation were now marked on the calendar. She would no longer chastise him for practicing out in the cold, would merely purse her lips into a thin line as he draped scarf around his neck and pulled on his runners. Gone were the days when she would send him to school with a handmade bento. Instead, his father him handed a weekly allowance to buy his lunch at the school cafeteria. He spent his lunch allowance sparingly, saving what he could each week to buy new novels or volleyball equipment. Increasingly, during the early evenings, Akaashi and his father would sit uncomfortably together at the dinner table while they ate their dinner in silence, Akaashi’s mother having locked herself in her bedroom with a bottle of wine. Other days she would join them at the dinner table, silently eating her dinner, refusing to speak or make eye contact with either himself or his father. Those were days he hated the most.

Every day, the creeping sense of dread the gripping his chest grew a little stronger.

No one dared to speak of his mother’s depression. They all knew the cause, it hung heavy in the air, unspoken.

Akaashi had failed to present as an Alpha.

* * *

Akaashi graduated from Mori Middle School without fuss. Both his parents attended his graduation ceremony, his mother had bought a new dress, styled her hair and painted her lips red. Red lips that stretched into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, the picture of a perfect housewife and proud mother.

The public act sickened Akaashi to his core but he pushed the feeling away. There was, after all, nothing more that he could do but play the part of the perfect son. The perfectly ordinary, Beta son.

Akaashi said his goodbyes to his teachers and classmates. He had nodded politely when his classmates and teammates made promises to keep in touch, everyone knowing full well that two months’ from now they would become nothing but a distant memory to each other, a ‘so-and-so that attended the same middle school’, a faded memory of youth. He received no last-minute graduation confessions, nor was he inclined to make any confessions of his own. Impulsive acts like last minute confessions under the cherry blossom trees and the exchange of uniform buttons were utterly too cliché for his unremarkable life.

And just like that, a chapter in Akaashi’s life closed behind him, barely making a sound.

His first day at Fukurodani High wasn't much different. He posed with his parents for the obligatory ‘first-day of school’ photograph in his new uniform: a white collared dress shirt, black pants and shoes, gray blazer and striped blue tie. He attended the opening ceremony without incident, sat patiently through the student president’s opening address, gave the obligatory self-introduction during his first homeroom class, and marked his name on his student cubby at the entrance of the school. He nodded politely at his classmates’ overtures to become friends, making no overtures of his own.

Once classes had been dismissed, he made his way to the athletics clubs and submitted his application to become a member of the volleyball club. His application form was accepted by one of the club’s managers who introduced herself as Shirofuku Yukie, a second year. His business at school completed, Akaashi headed home, ignoring the nervous energy in the air as the first-years settled into their new school, establishing new friendships, continuing friendships from earlier years or re-establishing lost connections.

* * *

Akaashi’s first day of volleyball club wasn’t until a week later. He stood with nine other first years as the team introductions were made. All the first years were dressed in their own track suits, some from their former schools; they wouldn’t receive their Fukurodani uniforms until they were formally accepted onto the team.

“Good afternoon,” a stocky third-year stood in front of the nervous first-years. “My name is Kawamura Yukio, wing spiker, and I have the honour of being your captain this year. Please feel free to come to me with any of your worries. Next to me is our vice-captain Okano Shinichi, middle blocker.” The tall light-haired player next to the dark-haired captain inclined his head slightly in greeting. “I look forward to working with you. Like the captain said, please don’t hesitate to come to either of us with any concerns you might have.”

A slightly shorter player with a buzz-cut stepped forward next, “Mizuoka Taiji, third-year, libero. I hope to be a reliable sempai this year.”

“Naigai Kunihiko, third-year, wing spiker. Please take care of me.”

“Satou Hiroto, third-year, wing spiker. I look forward to playing with you.”

“Tsukamoto Seiichi, third-year, setter,” the light-haired third-year introduced himself with a sullen expression, dark circles lining his eyes, his posture screaming of fatigue.

“Ito Daisuke,” the last of the third-years introduced himself. “Setter and pinch server.”

Akaashi politely paid attention to the third-years’ introductions and made the requisite reply of “please take care of us!” with the other first years after each introduction. He felt an odd tension in the air, and a sense of despondency among some of the third-years. It was puzzling given that Fukurodani had a strong team last year, even making it to the quarter-finals of the Spring Nationals last year; the third-years should be more confident and optimistic Akaashi thought to himself. The third-year setter Tsukamoto, especially, seemed to have a defeatist attitude about him.

“Second years, make your introductions,” the Captain Kawamura instructed the group of second-years.

The tallest of the second-years stepped forward first. He made an imposing figure, standing well over six feet tall with an angular face and spiked black hair. “Washio Tatsuki, middle blocker. This will be my first year as a sempai but I will do my best to become reliable, both as a blocker and a sempai. Please be patient with me. ”

The next second-year to step forward was slightly shorter than Washio with tousled dark brown hair, thick eyebrows and a mouth turned up in a perpetual smile. “Sarukui Yamato, wing spiker. You can call me Saru!” Washio nudged the brown-haired second-year in the ribs and whispered something to him. “Eh? Ah! Sorry, please call me Saru-sempai!”

The shortest and most tanned of the second-years stepped forward next. “Komi Haruki, libero and team funny-man. This year I hope to improve my digging and stand-up comedy skills!” He grinned sheepishly when the captain glared at him for his introduction.

“I’m Konoha Akinori,” the second-year with the neatly combed, mid-length dirty blonde hair introduced himself, his thin eyebrows twitching slightly. “My official position is wing spiker but I’m also a pinch server and can stand in as a setter although I’d really rather not.” Komi and Sarukui quietly snickered next him while Washio pinched his lips together in an effort not to smile. 

“You sure? Playing setter for Fukurodani is _so_ rewarding, _Mr. Jack of all Trades_ ,” Komi sniggered next to him, earning an elbow to the ribs.

“My turn!” Bokuto raised his hand enthusiastically and bounced on the balls of his feet. If it was possible, his two-toned hair stood higher with his visible excitement. Akaashi was surprised that the ace hadn’t introduced himself sooner, but he guessed that Bokuto enjoyed the attention that came with going last. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto shouted as he stepped forward, earning a wince from his teammates. “Last but not least, Bokuto Koutaro, wing spiker and Fukurodani’s ace! My favourite food is yaki-niku and I’m looking forward to going to the Spring Nationals again this year. Oh, and the Fukurodani Academy Group training camps, those are awesome too! And-”

“That’s enough Bokuto,” Captain Kawamura chastised. “Perhaps coach can say a few words before we have the first years introduce themselves.”

Suitably chagrined, Bokuto stepped back to stand behind Konoha and Komi.

Fukurodani’s middle-aged coach stepped forward, a welcoming smile crinkling his eyes from behind rectangular glasses. “I’m Coach Yamiji. I’m happy to see so many new faces and familiar faces today. We built a strong team last year and had the good fortune of making it all the way to the quarter-finals at the Spring National Tournament last year. With the addition of our new first-year members I hope to capitalize on last year’s success and become an even stronger team this year. I’m not an overly strict coach but I expect you to work hard, show up on time and keep your marks up. Understood?” 

“Yes sir!” all the students replied in unison.

“Now then, let’s have the first years introduce themselves.”

Akaashi lined up along the back of the volleyball court with the rest of the first years. He listened with half an ear as his fellow first-years introduced themselves and their positions. They were all wing spikers, not surprising since most teenage boys gravitated to the flashy position, with the exception of two liberos.

It was finally Akaashi’s turn. He straightened, holding his hands behind his back as introduced himself in a clear and calm voice. “Akaashi Keiji. I played setter at Mori Middle School. Please take care of me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Akaashi thought he saw Bokuto perk up when he mentioned that he was a setter. Akaashi dismissed the thought quickly. There was no way Fukurodani’s ace would be interested in a first-year setter from a run-of-the-mill middle school.

After the introductions were finished, Coach Yamiji had them complete warm-up stretches and run laps before he ran them through the usual drills of serves, receives, sets and spikes. He could feel eyes on him throughout the drills but expected them. After all, the coach and the current club members were assessing his skills, along with those of the other the first-years.

Satisfied with the drills, Coach Yamji called for the end of practice. “Good hustle today, I’m pleased with what I’m seeing. Make sure to complete your cool-down stretches and clean up the court before you leave.”

“Yes sir! Thank you for your guidance sir!” Akaashi bowed to the coach in tandem with the other players.

Predictably, the third-years left once they completed their cool-down, leaving the clean-up to the first and second years. Familiar with school hierarchies, Akaashi was not in the least bit surprised. He helped collect the balls and grabbed a court mop to mop up the sweat from the court floor.

“Umm… hey, Akashi-kun.” Akaashi looked up from his mopping as Bokuto approached him meekly, his spiked hair almost looking deflated. _Odd_ , he thought to himself. Bokuto had struck him as brash and exuberant. To the side, he can see that the ace’s tentative approach has caught the attention of Komi and Konoha who are looking on with interest.

“It’s Ak _aa_ shi.” Bokuto didn't seem to hear him, too focused on what he was going to say next. 

“Will you help me with spike practice for just a little bit?” Bokuto asked hopefully, head titled the side. From behind Bokuto’s broad back, Konoha gestured frantically at Akaashi to say no while Komi stifled a laugh behind his hand.

Akaashi was taken aback. He knew his skills as a setter were adequate, but they paled in comparison to the skills of his upperclassman ace.

“Ah, sure?”

“Great!” Bokuto grinned, his excitable nature returning full force. Konoha threw him a sympathetic glance. “Poor guy. He has not idea what he just agreed to,” Komi sniggered under his breath as he and Konaha herded the bewildered first-years out of the gym with hushed whispers of “It’s better this way, trust us!”

Akaashi furrowed his brow in confusion as he watched the second-years and first-years beat a hasty retreat from the gym. His ruminations were interrupted when Bokuto ran over to him, excitedly pushing the ball cart.

“Ready?” Bokuto asked, ball in hand. Akaashi nodded and prepared to set.

Bokuto threw the ball to him and Akaashi raised his hands up to meet the ball, tossing it up towards the ace.

 _‘Too low,_ ’ Akaashi thought to himself as Bokuto smashed it down with ease.

The next ball was too short, the next slightly better, the one after that too close to the net. Akaashi took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down and push away his rising panic.

‘ _Concentrate_ ,’ Akaashi mentally chastised himself. ‘ _Watch him, look at his form when he jumps, find the apex.’_

Bokuto seemed unbothered by Akaashi’s subpar tosses, leaping up and hitting them with ease.

Akaahi’s tosses slowly started to improve by the time there were only a few balls left in the cart. He heaved a heavy sigh when he tossed the last ball, Bokuto slamming it down with all his strength. He was no match for the ace, but Bokuto didn’t berate him or complain, just steadfastly smashed each ball onto the court until the cart was empty.

Akaashi wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt before bending down to collect the balls that littered the court.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m afraid my tosses aren’t at your level.”

“S’ok,” Bokuto replied easily as he helped him pick up the balls and tossed them back into the cart. “Maybe you could, umm… toss a little higher and a little farther from the net?” Bokuto asked as he picked up the last of the balls, spinning it between his large hands.

“I’ll try, Bokuto-san”.

“Awesome!” Bokuto crowed before tossing the ball up in the air. Apparently, he intended to continue practicing his spikes.

Part-way through the second cart-full, Bokuto turned to Akaashi after hitting a particularly strong cut-shot, the ball landing just within bounds.

“Akashi-kun! Did you see that spike? Didja?” Bokuto hopped around grinning.

In his tired mind, Akaashi conjured up an image of an overly excited owl, hopping about, feathers all fluffed up with pride. ‘ _Now that I think of it, his hair reminds me of a great horned-owl_ …” Akaashi thought tiredly to himself. Under his breath he muttered, “It’s Ak _aa_ shi,” before raising his voice. “Nice kill, Bokuto-san!”

He received a wide grin in response. “Wasn’t it?” Bokuto swayed from side to side in excitement before adding sheepishly, “It was a lucky shot.”

‘ _Definitely a horned owl_ ,” Akaashi thought to himself, his mind once again helpfully supplying an image of an owl shuffling from side to side, its head swiveling every which way. Even Bokuto’s eyes resembled those of an owl, wide, alert, and golden-hued. Odd hair and rare-coloured eyes, Akaashi idly wondered if Bokuto came from a special lineage of Alpha. After all, there was no doubt that Bokuto was an Alpha, it was easy to discern, even for a Beta like Akaashi.

“One more!” Bokuto demanded, throwing the ball to Akaashi and Akaashi obliged.

Akaashi soon learned that Bokuto’s performance improved with praise. By the third cart-full, Akaashi would call “Nice Kill!” after every third spike or so, Bokuto flashing him a grin each time.

Akaashi’s stamina was flagging by the fourth cart, his “Nice Kill!” coming out in wheezes as he desperately tried to suck in more air. 

‘ _What part to this is “just a little bit”’_ he thought, willing himself to stay upright.

“I think we should call it a night,” Bokuto finally said and Akaashi wanted to drop to the floor in relief. “Need help with your cool-down stretches?” Bokuto asked.

“I’m fine, thank you Bokuto-san”.

“Okay,” Bokuto shrugged but he could feel Bokuto’s watchful eyes on him as he stretched, making sure no doubt, that Akaashi stretched properly.

Stretches completed, Akaashi began collecting the balls when he was stopped by Bokuto. “Let’s hit the showers first, clean-up after.”

Akaashi nodded in agreement, grateful for the reprieve. He was still sweating buckets and he’d only continue to drip sweat onto the floor while mopping. 

“Go on ahead, I need to go grab my gym bag.”

Too tired to respond, Akaashi wearily stumbled to the club room and pulled his gym bag out his locker, stripping off his sweat-soaked gym clothes before grabbing a towel and heading to the communal showers down the hall.

After a luke-warm shower, Akaashi finally felt like he’d stopped sweating enough to get dressed. He returned to club room and quickly donned his uniform, noticing for the first time that Bokuto’s locker was slightly ajar, both his gym bag and school bag stuffed messily into the metal box but no sign of the ace himself.

Confused, he headed back towards the gym, both his school and gym bags slung over his shoulder, when he heard the tell-tale sound of a volleyball hitting the court. He rounded the corner and watched in disbelief as Bokuto stood behind the service line, a half empty ball cart next to him, ball held lightly on his outstretched left arm. With his next breath, he lightly tossed the ball up into the air, ran forward and leapt, his right arm sending the ball whizzing over the net to land bare millimeters from the back line of the court with a resounding slam.

Akaashi leaned down and picked up the ball from where it had rolled to his feet, leveling his best blank stare at the ace.

“Ahaha!” Bokuto grinned guiltily, “you caught me.”

The ace was an untiring freak of nature, Akaashi concluded. He’d just finished a regular 2-hour practice, 1-hour of ‘just a little’ spike practice, at least 15 minutes of practicing serves and he looked like he could keep going for another 3 hours. At the same time, a bit of satisfaction took root in his chest. This was the star he witnessed all those months ago, the ace that gave his absolute all and played with such determination.

“Please go shower Bokuto-san,” Akaashi entreated wearily, hoping to head off any requests for help practicing serves. “I’ll clean up. After all, it’s my job as a first-year.”

“I’ll help you!”

“You’ll just sweat all over the floors and create more work for me.” Akaashi bluntly retorted, too tired to care if his sass offended the upperclassman.

Bokuto crossed his muscular arms across his broad chest and leaned back on his heels, his head cocked to the side as if he were preparing to reprimand his underclassman for his impertinence. Akaashi refused to break eye-contact with the ace, mentally preparing himself for the ace to show his domineering Alpha side and assert his status as his upperclassman. 

After a moment, to Akaashi’s surprise, Bokuto grinned widely and jogged toward the locker rooms, lightly slapping Akaashi on the shoulder as he passed him. “Whatever you say Akashi-kun!”

“It’s Ak _aa_ shi,” the first-year grumbled in exasperation as he started to pick the balls littering the court.

Bokuto finished his shower in record time, sprinting back to the court with his bags in tow just as Akaashi had finished mopping the floor. “I’ll help with the net!”

“Thank you,” Akaashi lowered the net with Bokuto’s assistance, pulling the poles out of their sockets in the floor, kicking the covers back into place.

“Equipment room is over that way,” Bokuto jerked his head towards a set of double doors at the opposite end of the gym as he helped Akaashi carry the poles.

Poles and net safely stowed away, Bokuto dashed back into the gym to grab the mop and cart, pushing the cart back towards the equipment room. “If you wait just a minute, I’ll walk out with you!” he called over his shoulder.

Akaashi didn’t argue and simply walked back to the court to collect both his and the ace’s bags.

“Thanks!” Bokuto grinned as he jogged back and grabbed his bags from his underclassman. “Ready to go?”

Akaashi nodded and followed Bokuto out of the gym and out into the crisp evening air. “Don’t we need to lock up?”

“Errr…. I don’t have a key.”

Akaashi gave him a blank look.

“They won’t let me have a key anymore after I lost the key four times last year.”

“Oh…” Akaashi looked back at the gymnasium doors, wondering what he should do. They could get into trouble if they just left the gym unlocked.

“It’s ok, Onda-jiisan will lock up for us!”

“Who?”

“Onda-jii, he’s the groundskeeper and he always locks up for me after I leave, I just hafta let him know!”

Akaashi shrugged and followed Bokuto towards the school gates. It wasn’t like he could do anything about the situation.

As they neared the school gates, Akaashi saw that the light was on inside the small security booth next to the school gates. Inside, a grizzled old man sat, idly leafing through a magazine.

“Onda-jii!” Bokuto called out boisterously.

The grizzled man looked up and smiled. “Ah, Bokuto-kun, all finished for today?” 

“Yup! Oh, this is our new setter, Akashi! Akashi, this is Onda-jii, the groundskeeper!” Akaashi groaned inwardly as Bokuto mispronounced his name for at least the 15th time that day, not bothering to correct him this time. Akaashi had decided that correcting Bokuto on the pronunciation of his name was likely an exercise in futility.

“Nice to meet you Onda-san,” Akaashi bowed politely.

“Ah youth. Every time a new group of students starts a new school year I feel that much older,” the old man pushed himself to his feet and pulled a ring of keys from his belt. “I’ll lock up, you boys be careful on your way home now!”

“Thanks Onda-jii!” Bokuto called back to the groundskeeper as he threaded through the small gap left open between the school gates, Akaashi following closely behind.

“I’m headed to the station, what about you?”

“I’m headed to the station too.”

“Awesome!” Bokuto beamed as he started to head down the road towards the station. “You wanna grab a snack at the combini?”

Akaashi calculated the amount of lunch money he’d saved that week and shook his head. He was saving up for a new pair of volleyball shoes and he was still a long way away from his goal. “No, not tonight. My mother will have dinner waiting for me.”

“Shit!” Bokuto’s arched brows flew up towards his hairline. “Did I keep you too late? Will your parents be mad?”

Akaashi pulled his phone from his school bag and checked the time: 7:08 p.m. There was a text message from his father, telling him that his mother had left dinner out for him and asking him if he was going to be late. Akaashi typed a quick reply that he was on his way home before putting his phone back in his bag.

“It’s ok. I already let them know I might be late tonight. We don’t eat dinner together anymore.” Akaashi blinked to himself when the last part came out of his mouth unbidden.

“Oh.” Bokuto seemed to deflate for a moment before perking back up. “What train are you taking? I’m taking the yellow-line southbound.”

“Green-line, westbound.”

“Oh, too bad. I was hoping we took the same train.”

They continued on in silence for a few blocks, Akaashi taking the opportunity to observe the ace as he trudged alongside him. It was easy to read Bokuto’s expression in his wide eyes, his golden irises gleaming in the light of the street lamps. His hair, on the other hand, was a puzzle. Akaashi had initially thought that it had been bleached and grown out but had concluded throughout the day that Bokuto’s hair was actually whitish-grey with streaks of black undertones, hence his earlier conclusion that Bokuto might be part of a unique Alpha lineage. While his hair had been styled back into two distinctive tufts earlier in the day, his hair now - although still slicked back and spiked upwards - seemed fluffier, as though the ace had had a run-in with an electrical socket.

Bokuto noticed Akaashi’s gaze and reached up self-consciously to touch his hair. “Ah. I didn’t wanna to leave you to do all the clean-up by yourself so I didn’t take the time to gel it back after I dried it. Does it look weird?”

“Hmm, not really.” Akaashi shrugged.

“You don’t think so?” Bokuto asked hopefully.

“No weirder than usual.” 

Bokuto looked pensive. “I can’t tell if you’re being really honest or if you’re insulting me.”

“A little of both.”

Bokuto laughed as he rummaged in his gym bag and pulled out a container of hair gel. “You’re gonna get along well with Komi. Probably the other second-years too. Washio doesn’t talk much but he’s a solid guy. The third years… captain’s alright, so’s Mizuoka but well…” Bokuto paused his ramble briefly, his expression serious for the first time that day, “The third years can be a little hard to deal with sometimes.”

Akaashi thought back to the third years’ introductions earlier that day and the odd energy he had felt among the third years. He shelved that thought for more consideration later, once he’d had more of an opportunity to observe the third years.

As Bokuto rubbed a dollop of gel between his hands and smoothed his hair back into its customary twin peaks with well-practiced movements, Akaashi continued his scrutiny of the ace.

Bokuto was bigger than him, with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles. He had an angular jaw but his face still retained some of is baby-fat, giving him a impish look that Akaashi found oddly endearing. Although Bokuto eclipsed him in bulk, he wasn’t that much taller than him. _‘Just a few centimeters or so_ ,’ Akaashi guessed with a small amount of satisfaction.

“It’s natural ya know,” Bokuto suddenly blurted out, back to his more cheery self. 

“What is?”

“My hair. Everyone thinks that I dye it but it’s naturally like this. Runs the family.”

Akaashi nodded. “I thought so.”

“You’re really smart aren’t ya? I bet you’re really smart.”

“Who knows?” Akaashi shrugged more to himself than to the ace, a sudden thought popping into his head. “Bokuto-san, what’s your jump reach?”

“327 centimeters. But I’m going to break 330 by summer! Coach’s already set me up with a new training regimen. Why’d you ask?”

“Just wondering,” Akaashi replied vaguely, a plan forming in his mind.

“Uh.. ok. What about you? What’s your reach?”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi replied truthfully. “I’ve never measured, and my old team never cared too much about those things. My team in middle school wasn’t that great.”

“You’re pretty good though.”

“I’m nowhere near your level.”

Bokuto shrugged. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Bokuto walked a few more paces before adding, “I had a lot of fun today. Thanks for practicing with me.”

Akaashi’s steps faltered in surprise. “You’re welcome.” He thought for a moment and added, “I had fun too?”, surprising even himself when he found that it was true, despite his exhausted state.

Bokuto laughed, looking doubtful. “Eh? Really?”

The ace cocked his head to the side, staring closely at Akaashi’s face, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “You don’t… what’s the word. Like when you show stuff on your face?” The ace scrunched up his face in thought. “Argh! It was on the worksheet for lit class too! E… e-something.”

“Emote?”

“Yeah! That, you don’t really emote! See, I told ya! Akashi you are smart!”

“Ak _aa_ shi.”

“Huh?”

“My name is _Aka-ashi_ ,” the setter repeated, drawing out the two middle vowels.

“Oh shit! Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

“I have been. All day.”

Bokuto’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “My bad! I feel like an idiot.”

“Bokuto-san, I believe you’re confusing ‘feel’ with ‘am’”. Akaashi deadpanned, surprising himself with his boldness, but he couldn’t help himself; the ace’s good-natured and affable temperament was drawing out his sarcastic nature. After all, it was only fair that the ace received some grief for mispronouncing his name all day.

Bokuto squawked in mock-outrage. “Fine, fine. I _am_ an idiot. It’s true though. Everyone on the team says that I’m thick-headed.”

Akaashi hummed noncommittally.

“You agree with them?” Bokuto demanded aghast.

“Too soon to tell,” Akaashi shrugged.

Bokuto pouted the rest of the way to the train station.

The ace was vastly different from what Akaashi had imagined he would be like. Granted, he had expected the ace to be loud and overbearing, his memory going back to the raucous celebrations the ace had engaged in after each point he won during last year’s match with Nohebi. But he also expected him to be more assertive and domineering, insisting on deference from those around him. Instead, he was enthusiastic and oblivious at the same time, his moods changing quickly. What surprised him the most, however, was how easy-going and thoughtful he was. _Especially for an Alpha,_ his brain reminded him treacherously.

“You’re gonna stay right?” Bokuto broke the silence after the had reached the station and walked through the gates, tapping their commuter passes and they walked in. 

“Stay? Here?” Akaashi wondered, not catching on. “I have to go home for dinner, my father is expecting me home soon.”

“No, no, not here. In the club I mean.”

Akaashi stared at the ace in confusion. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

Bokuto grinned weakly. “No real reason.”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the matter.

“I’ll see you at practice tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday Bokuto-san, there is no practice.”

The ace slapped his forehead. “Gah! I forgot!”

“Monday then?”

“Yes Bokuto-san, I will see you Monday at practice.” Akaashi replied evenly as he headed down the stairs towards his platform.

“Ok!” the ace replied brightly before heading towards the stairs leading towards the yellow-line platform.

Akaashi reached the green line platform the same time that Bokuto reached the yellow-line platform, the two platforms separated by two railway tracks running parallel to each other.

Bokuto grinned at him and waved. Akaashi merely nodded back but the ace seemed unphased by Akaashi’s lack of reaction.

The announcement bell rang, and a female voice resonated through the station. “Now approaching track 5: the west-bound train on the green line. Please say behind the yellow line until the train has come to a complete stop”.

The train pulled in between them, obstructing their view of each other. The doors slid open and Akaashi stepped on, careful not to jostle any of the other passengers with his bags. The train was moderately full so Akaashi moved to the center of the car, grabbing a hold of one of the suspended handholds and faced the window that looked out towards the yellow-line platform across the tracks.

A flash of movement caught his eye and he looked up. Bokuto stood at the edge of the other platform, both arms waving energetically.

“Bye Aka—ashi!!!!” he shouted, causing the other commuters standing on the same platform to startle at the volume of his voice. “See you Monday!!”

The other passengers on the train eyed Akaashi strangely but he paid them no mind and lifted his hand in acknowledgement as the train pulled out of the station.

As the train sped away from the station, Akaashi felt the constant heavy weight in his chest ease and a small bubble of warmth expand slowly in its place.

He was looking forward to Monday.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> This update was pretty quick, mainly because I'd already written this chapter and... I'm impatient. :P 
> 
> Sadly, updates moving forward won't be as quick. You know, a pesky thing called real life and such...


	3. Tosses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi practices his tosses on his own before he plays his first practice match with Bokuto.

_Tosses_

* * *

Akaashi arrived home a few minutes past eight. The house was completely dark and Akaashi slipped off his shoes, navigating his way towards the dining room by memory. He switched on the lights and saw his dinner sitting on the table, each individual dish wrapped in cling wrap. The place settings for his father and mother were empty. Akaashi guessed that they had eaten already. Or at least his father had.

Akaashi sat down at his spot at the table and picked up his chop sticks. “Thank you for the food,” he muttered to the empty room, clasping his hands together. He ate his food unhurriedly, barely tasting it. When he was finished, he cleared the table and brought his dishes the sink and carefully washed them, stacking them on the drying rack when he was done. 

“How was school?” his father’s deep, disembodied voice floated in from the living room.

Akaashi started, dropping the dish towel he had been using to wipe down the kitchen counter.

“Father?” He recovered quickly and picked up the dish towel, placing it back on the counter. He padded into the living the room and flicked on the lights. His father was sitting in the armchair, his arms resting on his knees as he stared down at his clasped hands. “I didn’t know you were home.”

His father nodded, not looking up. “Just for a bit. I’ll be heading out to meet some of my colleagues for drinks in a few minutes. How was school?” he repeated.

“It was fine,” Akaashi replied noncommittally. “It was the first day of volleyball club. Practice ran late.”

“I see. It’s good that you joined the volleyball club.”

Akaashi hovered uncertainly in the doorway to the living room as his father lapsed back into silence.

“Are you…” his father paused, clearing his throat. “Are you making friends?”

Akaashi considered his father’s question. He hadn’t really made any friends with his classmates nor had he attempted to. Making friends had never been a priority to him. He always felt it was enough to make friendly acquaintances, to keep his level of interaction with others at a comfortable minimum. Akaashi had long ago concluded that his apathy towards others wasn’t because he disliked people or suffered from some sort of social anxiety, he just didn’t feel it was necessary to engage so closely with others.

And although his father never voiced his concern outright, he knew that his lack of close connections with his peers worried his father. 

Self-reflection complete, his thoughts turned to his walk earlier that evening from Fukurodani to the train station, an image of Bokuto waving energetically from the train platform burned into his memory.

“I’m not sure. I met someone interesting.” Akaashi replied seriously.

“Someone interesting?” Akaashi’s father sighed, pushing himself wearily to his feet. “I know you are independent and capable of taking care of yourself. But having friends is important too.”

Akaashi stepped aside to let his father pass through the doorway, his footsteps treading heavily as he made his way to the entryway.

“Keiji,” his father called, slipping on his shoes but not turning around.

“Yes?”

“You’re a good, dependable son.”

Akaashi didn’t reply, he simply stared at the broad back of his father, his stomach doing an uncomfortable flip. His father pushed open the door with a heavy sigh. “I’ll probably be back after midnight. Don’t stay up too late.” The door closed quietly behind the retreating figure of his father. He heard the car engine start, the light from the headlights shining in through the windows, bathing Akaashi in a bright light before turning away, leaving him once again in the dark.

 _Dependable._ The word echoed in the empty hallways. _Steadfast, Reliable, Faithful, Staunch,_ Akaashi’s mind supplied various the synonyms. _Consistent._

They were heavy expectations but achievable expectations. Not like being asked to change his biology. Not like being asked to be extraordinary.

* * *

Akaashi stepped back and examined his work, chalk and tape measurer in hand.

It was early in the afternoon and Akaashi stood in his parents’ backyard, facing the single large oak tree in the corner of the yard.

The trunk of the tree was marked with white lines, each at 5 cm intervals and labeled carefully from: 275 cm meters to 330 cm. Below the lines was a thicker line, labeled 243 cm.

‘ _Height of a standard volleyball net: 243 cm. Diameter of a standard size volleyball, 21 cm. 265 cm minimum height to clear net. Lowest possible height to securely spike a ball, 275cm, more optimally 280 cm. Better to spike at 300 cm and above.’_

_‘Jump height measures how high an athlete can reach with the tip of their fingers when jumping straight up from a standing position. With a jump reach of 327 cm, Bokuto should be easily able to comfortably spike balls at a height 300cm to 310 cm, maybe even 315cm since he would have the advantage of a running jump.’_

_‘Optimal timing for spike: The moment the athlete’s momentum reaches their apex, adding the pull of gravity to the downward swing for further power.’_

He didn’t think so highly of himself that he assumed that Bokuto would ask him to practice again, but he guessed that he might. And this time he wanted to be better prepared.

Nodding in satisfaction, he pocketed his chalk and tape measurer, folded up the step-ladder and returned it to the small shed next the house. His parents’ yard was narrow and long, on all sides by a stone fence with a well-manicured lawn, a few shrubs, the main feature of the yard being the single large oak tree. Like most yards in Tokyo, it was small but spacious enough for Akaashi to practice his tosses.

He grabbed his volleyball from where it sat at the base of the tree and ran through his warm exercises. Exercises finished, he turned his attention to the tree began to practice his tosses, standing about 2 paces away from the trunk. He aimed his first tosses at the 280 cm mark, tossing against the tree trunk until he was able to consistently hit the mark. Satisfied that he had mastered a level of control at the 280 cm mark, he moved up to the 285 cm mark.

Akaashi continued his solitary drills until he reached the 315 cm mark. He moved back to 4 paces from the tree trunk and repeated the process. When he’d once again reached the 315 cm mark, satisfied that he would be able to consistently toss at the desired height, he finally stopped to take a break, and took a swig of water from the bottle sitting next to the back door of his parents’ house. He wiped the light sheen of sweat from his face and went back to his drills, this time standing 6 paces from the tree trunk.

Akaashi was tossing 12 paces from the tree when the back-door opened and his father stepped out.

“Keiiji,” he called. “Go clean yourself up, I’m going to go pick up some dinner.

“Yes father.” Akaashi grabbed his water bottle and volleyball and followed his father back inside the house. “Is mother joining us?”

“No, your mother is out having dinner with friends. She’ll be back later tonight.”

Akaashi unthinkingly heaved a sigh of relief as he climbed the stairs towards his bedroom. He carefully stashed his volleyball under his desk before he quickly showered and dressed in plain t-shirt and track pants. 

The front door opened as Akaashi padded down the stairs in his bare feet.

“Should I set the table?” he asked his father.

“Hmm, yes,” his father slipped out of his shoes, his large frame filling the entry way. “Just chopsticks and a soy sauce plate. Ah, and some tea.”

“We’re having sushi?” Akasshi asked, spotting the bag from the local sushi restaurant.

“Ah, I was thinking that we didn’t celebrate your starting high school.”

Akaashi didn’t respond, unsure on how he felt. Instead, he kept himself busy preparing the tea and carrying it to the table.

“Thank you for the food,” he clasped his hands together once he and his father and settled in their seats.

They ate in a companionable silence, the air less tense than it had been for months. Akaashi suspected it was because his mother was out of the house.

As if reading his mind, his father let out a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry Akaashi. I know these last few months have been hard on you. Your mother only wants the best for you, so she tends to fixate only on the negative when things don’t go as planned. Don’t think too badly of her. Just give her some more time, she should come around soon.”

Akaashi nodded silently, refusing to meet his father’s eyes lest expression give away what he was thinking. ‘ _It’s foolish to think that you can control something so completely out of your control.’_

* * *

Akaashi arrived early for Monday afternoon volleyball practice with the remaining first years to set up for practice. He noticed that they were already short two of the first-years, both wing spikers. No doubt they had joined the club half-heartedly or out of a passing interests. It wasn’t uncommon for first-years to shuffle between clubs until they finally committed to one, sometimes two if scheduling allowed.

Or, they might have left, seeing that the competition they were facing with 7 new wing spikers initially joining as first-years, not to mention the solid line-up of wing spikers among the second and third-years. And that wasn’t even taking into account the ace, Bokuto Koutarou.

It would only be a matter of time before more first-years dropped out, no doubt unwilling to put in the time to earn a spot on the team as a substitute much less a member of the starting line-up.

His musings were interrupted by a loud “Hey, hey, hey!” as Bokuto bounced into the gym, a ball of energy. “Your ace is here!” Konoha, Komi and Sarukui trailed behind him at a more sedate pace.

Washio arrived soon after with Mizuoka and the Kawamura. After a few minutes, the third years trickled in, jostling and joking among each other.

“Coach is going to be a bit late,” Kamamura announced once everyone was assembled. “He wants us to start up with warm-ups and group off. First-years, coach is going to be working with you in the gym, second and third years are going to be working on strength training and stamina exercises on the outside grounds today.”

Some of the upper-years grumbled at hearing they would be running drills outside.

“Let’s get started,” the captain ordered and the club members went through their warm up stretches and laps.

Coach Yamiji arrived just as the club members were finishing up their warm-up routines with two girls in tow, both dressed in tracksuits and carrying clipboards.

“Ah, before we get started today, I want to introduce our club managers. This is Shirofuku Yukie, second-year” the bespectacled man gestured to the shorter girl with droopy eyes and mid-length mauve hair, “You probably already met her when you signed up for the club.”

“And this is Suzumeda Kaori”, he gestured to the slightly taller girl with a freckles peppering her cheeks and nose, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“The role of the team managers will be to assist with practices and tournaments. They’ll help keep track of attendance, scores and equipment. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this but they are not errand girls but valuable members of the club. Don’t forget that.”

“Now, let’s have the first-years assemble on the court, I’ll leave the upperclassmen in your capable hands Suzumeda; make sure they run through Outdoor Drill Patterns A &C. Shirofuku, you stay in the gym with me and help take notes.”

The two groups split up and Akaashi turned his focus to the practice drills. Being the only setter, he was constantly in play, throwing tosses for half the spikers while the remaining spikers and the two liberos practiced their receives.

Coach Yamiji, Akaashi noted, had a relaxed approach to coaching. He sat back and watched the players carefully, offering some tips every now and then before calling for a new drill. Next to him, Shirofuku jotted notes down on her clipboard.

Akaashi internally chastised himself when he found himself comparing each of the first-year spikers to Bokuto. He couldn’t go through practice with stars in his eyes, that would make him no different than the two first-years he had criticized earlier. While here, he had to focus his efforts on tossing to those on the court with him. After all, there were at least two if not three spikers on any rotation. And he would be a disappointment as a setter if he couldn’t send suitable tosses to all of his teammates.

He concentrated on his practice from the day before, aiming his tosses at the apex of the setter’s jump. _Watch their set up. How many paces do they take? Do they jump close to the net? Do they jump farther from the net? Do they jump with the proper form? At what angle do they hold their dominant hand? Do they fully extend their arms?_

Coach Yamiji called time and gave a few pointers to the spikers and receivers before instructing them to shift to blocking practice.

“All right, let’s move to blocking practice. Spikers, half of you continue to spike, the other half move to blocking. Liberos, you keep up with the receives, be sure to catch any of the spikes that make it through. Once each spiker has hit 10 spikes, rotate to the other side of the court. Akaashi-kun, as the only setter, we’ll have you continue to toss for the spikers.”

“Yes sir!” the first-years replied in unison.

As his tosses became more in sync with his club mates, Akaashi turned his focus to his form as he tossed. Not that it really mattered during the current drill as he was tossing to the spikers as they lined up in a row to spike against the waiting blockers. _I shouldn’t waste this occasion of having someone send me tosses. Focus on your form, get under the ball, don’t let your posture betray the direction of your toss._

He noticed dispassionately that none of the first-years were particularly good at blocking, confirming his earlier suspicion that the majority had chosen the position of wing spiker because it was flashy and were only focused on spiking their balls rather than being a well-rounded player.

“All right, that’s good enough for today. We’ll work on digs and overhand receives tomorrow. And sets too, if we have the time. Everyone should have some rudimentary ability to set, even the liberos. After all, we can’t rely solely on Akaashi-kun for all the tosses.” Coach Yamiji called out to the players as he clapped his hands, signalling the end of practice. “Everyone, do your cool-down exercises. Ah,” the coach gestured to the first-year setter. “Akaashi-kun, a moment please.”

Akaashi blinked in confusion. He didn’t think he had done anything to warrant being singled out among the first-years.

“You need to relax your knees a bit more and use your legs more to add strength to your tosses, don’t just rely on your arm strength. Also, I think we can start introducing jump tosses to your repertoire, it’ll add speed and height to your tosses.”

“Yes, sir,” Akaashi replied seriously, committing the coach’s feedback to memory and formulating plans on improving his skills.

“Ah!” Coach Yamiji smiled kindly, “Don’t look like you just got scolded. I’m very happy with your performance. I can see that you’re a very analytical and adaptive player. Don’t think that I didn’t notice that you were adjusting your tosses for each individual player. And, I don’t think I’m the only one that noticed.” Coach Yamiji nodded towards the second-floor viewing platform on the opposite end of the gym.

Akaashi turned around and looked up to see Bokuto covered in sweat and draped over the second-floor railing, staring down at him. When he noticed the setter’s gaze, the ace broke into a wide smile and waved, “Hey Akaashi-kun! Nice work!”

“Akaashi-kun,” Coach Yamiji caught his attention again and he swiveled to turn his focus back to his coach. “Bokuto can be a bit of overwhelming at times but I hope you get along well with him. If he gets to be too much, you can tell him so, he’s not the type to retaliate or hold it against you. Ah, he might sink into one of his moods though… but he recovers quickly enough so don’t worry ok?”

“One of his moods?” Akaashi wondered aloud.

Fukurodani’s coach laughed uncomfortably. “They’re hard to describe. You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Ah… ok, thank you sensei,” Akaashi answered, still bewildered.

“Oi! Mimitarou! Don’t tell me you skipped out of the drills!” Akaashi heard Shirofuku Yukie reprimand the ace.

“Yukippe!” Akaashi heard Bokuto whine from behind him. Evidently the ace had come down onto the court from the second-floor platform. “You know me better than that! I never skip! It’s just that the others can’t keep up with my awesomeness!”

Coach Yamiji laughed and slapped his thighs before standing up. “Ah, I would make my escape now if I were you. That is if you want to.”

“Escape?”

“Aka-ashi-kun!” Bokuto drew out the middle syllable of his name, his footsteps approaching. Akaashi could hear Coach Yamiji chuckling as he left the gym, presumably to go check on the other second and third-years.

Akaashi turned to see Bokuto approaching him rapidly, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. He could guess what the ace was going to ask.

“Oh no you don’t!” Konoha appeared suddenly, out of breath and sweating profusely. “You have a meeting with our homeroom teacher, and he put me in charge of making sure you show up.” 

“But…” Bokuto opened his mouth to protest but he was cut off quickly by his teammate.

“No buts!” Konoha responded firmly, grabbing Bokuto by the back of his shirt and dragging him away. “I refuse to get yelled at because you forgot to show up again.”

Akaashi started when a strong hand slapped him on the back. “At least he’s finally figured out your name,” Komi chuckled next to him. “It was one of the funniest things I’ve seen! Watching you grumble the entire time about how he was saying your name wrong.”

“What? How?” Akaashi asked in confusion.

“Oh, Konoha and I stuck around on Saturday to keep an eye on ya. Just in case you needed to be rescued. After all, we’ve all fallen for Bokuto’s ‘Will you practice with me for _just a little bit_ schtick.’”

“I had no idea,” Akaashi replied, completely stunned.

“Ah, we hid ourselves. If Bokuto figured out we were there too we would’ve been roped into practice too. We left after we figured you had a handle on things. Plus, you needed to figure out for yourself that Bokuto is a beast when it comes to practice. Anyways, I gotta go catch up with Konoha. You better get going before Bokuto finishes his meeting with his teacher and comes looking for you. See you around Akaashi!” Komi playfully slapped him on the back once more before leaving the gym in search of his teammate.

Akaashi silently agreed with Komi’s suggestion and began to quickly collect the balls littering the court floor. Although he wouldn’t refuse if Bokuto asked him to help him with spike practice, he would rather continue with his practice at home before tossing again for the ace.

He could feel eyes on him as he rolled the ball cart back to the equipment room and heard hushed whispers calling him a ‘suck-up’ and ‘senpais’ pet’. He staunchly ignored them, keeping his expression schooled. It wasn’t like he could do or say anything to change their minds, nor did he particularly care to. He would have preferred co-existed peacefully with his first-years but he couldn’t help it if the first-years got bent out of shape for petty reasons.

He turned to the whispering first-years with an impassive gaze. “Good work today. I’ve finished my clean-up, I’ll be leaving now.” He inclined his head slightly and left the gym and headed to the club room, intent on leaving school before any of them could follow him.

* * *

For Tuesday’s practice, Coach Yamiji once again had the upperclassmen run drills outside while he worked with the first-years. No doubt the coach was focusing on the first-years to get a sense of their talents and abilities.

Akaashi also learned on Tuesday that he would be free from Bokuto’s ‘extra practice’ for the remainder of the week as one of Fukurodani’s other gyms was undergoing repairs and the basketball club was scheduled to hold practice after the volleyball club finished its practice. He was fine with this as he wanted to continue to hone his skills before joining Bokuto for extra practice.

At least he guessed that Bokuto wanted to invite him for extra practice. It was hard not to notice the longing look Bokuto gave to the ball carts as they were wheeled back into the equipment room as members of the basketball club began to trickle into the gym.

Coach Yamiji continued to work exclusively with the first-years that week and Akaashi continued his self-practice in the evenings, often staying out and practicing by the light of the street lamps until his father came home from his late nights at work.

* * *

On Saturday, Coach Yamiji finally held practice with all of the club members in the gym. By this time, the number of remaining first-years had shrunk to five, including Akaashi. Two of the players had been recruited to the basketball club, having been promised a spot on the team and fallen for lines ‘Your height is perfect for basketball!’ and ‘Ballers get all the girls.’ Evidently the basketball club was hurting for members this year.

Akaashi didn’t know what happened to the other missing members but categorized that information as unimportant.

Coach Yamiji organized a practice match, placing all the first-years on one team and supplementing their numbers with Washio, Konoha and Sarukui.

“Fujita and Nakamura”, Yamiji addressed the two first year liberos, “You two take turns rotating onto the court when Washio-kun rotates to the back row. Komeda and Gotou, you’ll be spikers with Konoha and Sarukui,” Yamiji instructed the remaining first-year spikers. “And of course, Akaashi, you’ll be setter.”

On the other team were, Kawamura (captain & spiker), Okano (vice & middle blocker), Mizuoka (libero), Tsukamoto (setter) and Bokuto, Nagai and Satou (spikers).

Komi and Ito, the third-year pinch server, sat out to ref and keep score. Coach Yamiji stood on the sidelines, discussing something with the two managers who were nodding, Shirofuku taking notes on her clipboard and Suzumeda holding a tablet, preparing to film the practice. 

“What the hell,” Konoha muttered under his breath as he took his place at the net next to Washio and Akaashi at the net, “this is such an uneven match-up. It’s like lambs to a slaughter.”

“Coach probably wants to see how the first-years do against stronger opponents,” Washio replied calmly. 

“This seems a little excessive for that. Sadistic even, and coach is not sadist….” 

Akaashi examined the team on the other side of the net. They were all veterans of the team and Akaashi remembered from Fukurodani’s match against Nohebi that Okano, Kawamura, and Bokuto had formed part of last year’s regular line-up while Mizuoka and Tsukamoto had been part of the substitute line-up. And for all he knew, Nagai and Satou may have rotated onto the regular or substitute line-up when they had gone to Spring Nationals. In any event, they had been members of the club for two-years, soon to be three, and he shouldn’t underestimate their abilities.

“Should we name the teams?” Komi piped up from the sidelines. “Like Predators vs Prey? Ooooh, how about Owls vs Mice?”

“Shut up Komi!” Konoha snapped back. “Don’t you dare call me a mouse!”

“The tale of Konaha and his little mouse babies!” Komi crowed with laughter. “Wait, what are mouse babies called?”

“Pinkies!” Mizuoka gleefully called from the other side of the net.

“Kohoha and his little pinkies! It suits you guys so much!” Komi howled with laughter. Akaashi noticed some of the third-years roll their eyes, clearly annoyed.

“What!” Konoha spluttered. “How could you Mizuoka-senpai! Wait… does that mean Washio is a pinkie too?”

“No, he’s a middle-blocker,” Komi replied deadpaned.

“Now, now,” Coach Yamiji interjected, his business with the club managers finished. “I’m always happy to see the team bonding but let’s get the match started. First team to 25 points wins the set, we’ll play tow sets today. Konoha’s team gets first serve, Komeda you’re up.”

Komeda, the tallest first-year spiker stepped behind the service line and executed a passable serve. It was received easily by Mizuoka and Tsukamoto tossed to Kawamura who slammed it down with force despite Washio and Konoha jumping to block.

 _‘A quick’_. Akaashi thought to himself. He wasn’t surprised that they had lost the first point so quickly, they were, in his view, heavily outmatched.

Nagai, the third-year spiker, was up to serve. He stood well behind the service line, tossed the ball up in the air, ran forward and jumped.

The ball slammed into the court, Komeda looking dumbfounded.

“Service Ace!” Nagai, Satou, Okano and Tsukamoto celebrated, high-fived each other.

“Serve up another ace!” Tsukamoto called as Nagai prepared to serve again.

Nagai served a total of five aces, none of the first-year spikers in the back row able to receive the third-year spiker’s jump serves. Gotou managed to make contact with one of the serves but it careered off his outstretched arms to the back of the court.

“Hey, Nagai-sempai. Don’t you think you’re picking on them too much?” Komi called from the sidelines. “At least serve something they can return, otherwise this is going to be a really boring game.”

“What’s boring about a perfect game?” Tsukamoto drawled, his eyes sharp and hawk-like. Akaashi got a bad feeling from the gleam in his eyes. Tsukamoto had always struck him as a disinterested player, always tired-looking with the dark circles under his eyes. But now, those eyes had a feral gleam to them. “Hit ‘em again Nagai!”

“Saru!” Konoha called as Nagai hit another serve. 

“On it!” the second-year called, dashing across the back of the court. “Mine! I got it!” Sarukui jumped in front of Komeda to receive the ball. “Cover!”

Akaashi locked his eyes on the ball arching gracefully towards him. _‘A bit off course but easy to toss_ ,” he thought.

“You got this?” Konoha asked next to him.

“Yes,” Akaashi replied evenly, raising his arms to toss.

_‘Scenario A: Toss to Konoha, he will be the easiest to toss to. But as the only wing spiker in the front-row, the other team will be expecting that. Scenario B: Toss to Washio, he’s the tallest member of both teams, we could use his height to our advantage. But, he probably won’t expect me to toss to him. Scenario C: I toss to one of the back spikers. But neither of the first-years can execute a back spike and Sarukui is out of position. Scenario D: Setter dump. Least expected move but the most dangerous since I’m being marked by Okano, their middle blocker.’_

_‘Scenario B,_ ’ Akaashi decided and locked eyes with Washio and Konoha, hoping they would understand him. He raised his chin slightly and tossed high and fast.

Konoha and Washio both jumped into the air, both poised to strike. Thankfully, both had understood his glance.

Okano and Kawamura leapt to block Konoha whose swing hit empty air. Tsukamoto tracked the trajectory of Akaashi’s toss and jumped to block Washio but Washio had the advantage of height and slammed down the ball from the apex of his jump.

“Nice Kill!” Konoha and Sarukui congratulated the tall-middle blocker.

“That was a good toss,” Washio nodded to Akaashi.

Akaashi nodded in return and watched as Washio rotated off the court and was replaced by Fujita, one of the first-year liberos.

“All right Saru, let’s get some points back,” Konoha called out as Sarukui took his place behind the service line.

“You got it!” Sarukui agreed in good humour. Akaashi glanced back briefly to see the perpetually smiling spiker spin the ball as he prepared to serve. _‘He’s got a jump serve_ ,’ he noted with equal parts relief and approval.

Sarukui’s serve flew cleanly over the net and was received by Satou, the wing spiker. The receive was clean but didn’t quite make it all the way to Tsukamoto the server. To Akaashi’s surprise, he saw the third-year setter show some initiative in his play for the first time since Akaashi had joined the club. Tsukamoto quickly maneuvered under the ball and tossed it cleanly to Nagai who had moved up from the back row.

Nagai’s spike was saved by Konoha who dove desperately to the floor. Akaashi scrambled after Konoha’s save, unable to toss it so bumped it towards Sarukui who had moved forward to the net. Sarukui’s spike was cleanly received and sent back over the net by Satou.

Akaashi scowled inwardly at Komeda who stared blankly at where Satou’s spike landed, having not even made an attempt to intercept the ball. Outwardly, however, Akaashi’s face was the picture of calm.

The ‘Owls’, as Komi had dubbed them, had points the double digits while Akaashi’s team only managed to get 2 points. Konoha was doing his best to pull their team together, but the third-years were ruthless.

Akaashi noticed with some confusion that Tsukamoto had yet to set to Bokuto who wandered the court with a blank look on his face. Bokuto had called for several tosses, even leapt to hit and yet he was staunchly ignored by Tsukamoto.

As the game progressed, Akaashi noted that Bokuto started become more and more deflated, dejected even.

“Hey,” Kawamura, the third-year captain called out to Tsukamoto, “utilize all of your spikers.”

“Yes captain!” Tsukamoto replied out loud before muttering under his breath, “Ugh, that simpleton is such a pain.”

Tsukamoto finally tossed to Bokuto and he spiked it down with a resounding cross-shot. “Hey, hey, hey!” the ace celebrated, his dour mood completely vanished.

Fujita to his credit had attempted to reach the spike but Akaashi guessed you would have to be both psychic and super-human to have properly received Bokuto’s last cross-shot.

Akaashi could feel the first-years’ spirits start to crumble. Fujita managed a few receives, Nakamura was less successful but still made a valiant effort. Akaashi had dutifully tossed to both Komeda and Gotou but both of their spikes had been picked up by Mizuoka and once even by Bokuto.

Akaashi wiped the sweat from his brow and focus back on the game. _‘There’s no use dwelling on what’s done, I need to focus on what can be done, what is within my abilities.’_

They lost the first set by a landslide, barely managing to reach double-digit points before they were soundly beaten.

When they finally got the serve for the second set, Washio served capably but his serve was easily picked up Mizuoka. Akaashi realized as the ball was arcing towards Tsukamoto that he was directly across from him at the center of the net with Konoha to his left and Sarukui to his right. Bokuto was directly across from Konoha while Satou was across from Sarukui. Given their strengths and heights, the smart play would be to toss to Bokuto since Akaashi and Konoha couldn’t match his jumping height. Not only that, behind Konoha were Komeda and Gotou, the two first-year spikers that were terrible at receives.

 _‘But Tsukamoto is not a smart player, he’s a shifty player_ ,’ Akaashi remarked to himself. _‘He refused to toss to Bokuto until he was reprimanded by the captain. There’s something off about his demeanor._ ’

 _‘Ah,_ ” Akaashi concluded to himself. _‘He plays for himself, not for his team_. _He’ll take any opportunity to put himself and his interests first._ ’

Akaashi shifted slightly to the left towards Konoha as though he were going to form a block with his second-year teammate. The gleam in Tsukamoto’s eyes intensified and the corner of his mouth twisted into a smirk.

 _‘He can’t resist a setter dump_ ,’ Akaashi confirmed to himself and leapt up at the same time as Tsukamoto.

The ball dropped lightly onto the court, next to Tsukamoto’s feet.

The court fell silent. Akaashi looked up to meet Tsukamoto’s murderous glare.

“Nice, Akaashi!!” Bokuto broke the silence as be beamed at Akaashi from the other side of the net. 

Tsukamoto turned his glare to the second-year ace. “Shut up simpleton! Just whose team do you think you’re on?”

“Eh?” Bokuto cocked his head to the side, seemingly unfazed the third-year setter’s ire. “Aren’t we all on the same team though?”

“Fuck!” Tsukamoto exclaimed, “Dealing with you is like dealing with a toddler! ‘Give me the ball! Toss me another one! Hey let’s practice some more!’”

“It’s all about fun with you! I don’t think you have single fucking thought that’s not related to volleyball in that head of yours, you volleyball freak!”

“That’s enough!” Kawamura interrupted the setter’s tirade.

“Tsukamoto, I know it’s easy to get swept away in the heat of the game but watch your language. You don’t want to be ejected from an official match because you let your anger get the best of you.” Coach Yamiji called from the side-lines. “You need to calm down. The setter is the backbone of the team. A setter needs to be composed to make good use of his team. Find your composure!” Coach Yamiji’s tone was stern and kind but the thin line of his mouth after he finished speaking betrayed his annoyance and disappointment.

“Yes sir,” Tsukamoto replied sulkily.

“And get yourself under control,” Kawamura hissed at Tsukamoto. “Do you want to start a brawl?” he added under his breath.

“That goes for you two as well,” Washio spoke lowly to the two spikers next to him.

Akaashi glanced around the court confused.

“Pheromones,” Konoha whispered to him. “Tsukamoto’s probably giving of some pretty aggressive pheromones about now. And the first-years look like they’re reacting to it. Am I right Saru?”

Sarukui nodded in confirmation.

Akaashi rolled his eyes. _‘Just what I need…_ _A bunch of bull-headed Alphas clamouring for dominance_.’

Coach Yamiji appeared to notice the change in atmosphere. “Let’s try something different,” he called out. “For the rest of the set, Bokuto, let’s switch you to the other team and have you swap out Konoha. Konoha, you’ve worked hard today. You’ve earned a rest.”

“Thank you coach,” Konoha accepted gratefully. Konoha had worked as the backbone of the team, Akaashi thought. He had rallied the team together, blocked, spiked, received and even set when Akaashi had been unable to set. ‘ _He’s a true all-round player’_ Akaashi concluded in admiration.

“Ito, you sub on with the third years. We’ll play this set to 15 and call it a day.” Coach Yamiji called out, glancing at the clock.

Bokuto bounded onto the court next to Akaashi, grinning wide. “Send me lots of tosses, K?”

Akaashi nodded. _‘If we manage any good receives_ ,’ he added silently.

The game resumed with the rearranged teams. After a fumbling but adequate receive by Gotou, Akaashi tossed to Bokuto, visualizing as he did during his practices. “Bokuto-san!” he called as he tossed.

Bokuto spiked a cross-shot that sped past the diving Mizuoka and landed just within bounds.

“Hey, hey, hey!!!” Bokuto cheered.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Komi and Konoha laughed from the sidelines.

As the game progressed, Bokuto’s mood continued to improve. Akaashi noted that everyone’s mood seemed to elevate with Bokuto’s, even the third years; of course, with the notable exception of Tsukamoto, Nagai and, surprisingly, Okano.

 _’Ah. This is the feeling,’_ Akaashi thought to himself. _‘The feeling of being in the presence of a star’._

Akaashi continued to send Bokuto tosses, making sure to keep the other side on its toes by throwing in tosses to Washio, Sarukui and the two first-year spikers.

Tsukamoto’s mood continued to worsen, leading to more misses by the third-year setter.

Akaashi’s team managed to inch up in points and overtook the third years to reach match point.

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi called as he ran to get under the ball, tossing high and to the opposite end of the court.

Bokuto’s spike slammed into the court with a resounding thud, barely a blur to the human eye. Match point.

Bokuto stood stock still, staring at his right hand for a long minute before slowly lifting his head to meet Akaashi’s gaze.

“Akaashi!” he called, a wide and unguarded smile replacing his usual cocky grin. His mouth curved upwards with almost a child-like quality and his eyes crinkled with joy. “Your tosses are the best!”

“Ah, sure,” he faltered in his response, his facial expression blank. Internally, he was overjoyed to be so directly praised but unsure on how to respond. And it was all because…

_His smile was blinding._

Akaashi’s heart skipped a beat.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!
> 
> Thanks for reading. Also thank you for all the comments and kudos. 
> 
> So.. I was expecting the story to pick up pace a bit more but there's still quite a bit of world-building to accomplish. I thought of cutting some parts but decided that they couldn't be cut if I wanted the story to make sense. My main goal is to establish Akaashi's character and story since it'll be really important for the time-skip (which will be a ways away..)
> 
> Hopefully you're still all enjoying the story. There should be more development in the next chapter so I hope you'll all stick around! :)
> 
> Mari


	4. Sub-Status

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi learns about the history of sub-genders in class. 
> 
> Later, Coach Yamiji announces new changes for team eligibility for the upcoming Interhigh Tournament.

_Sub-status_

* * *

_We are still discovering more and more about how the sub-genders came into existence._

_Many of the records were lost during the events of Calamitas II, but we do know that the sub-genders were an artificial creation following Calamitas I. From the records that did survive and archeologists’ findings, we know that prior to the events of Calamitas, the human race only had two physical genders, male and female and no sub-genders. In fact, Beta was not a sub-gender but the norm. Only females were capable of bearing offspring._

_Now, as I’m sure you’ve learned in your history classes, Calamitas I and Calamitas II were both extinction level, man-made events._

_After the events of Calamitas I, the human race was decimated to one tenth of its population, pre-event. Billions were killed during the initial 20-day nuclear events, however, there were more casualties following the event from radiation sickness._

_Calamitas I rendered most of the earth uninhabitable with the remaining population moving to remote locales to survive, the most notable being the three main colonies. One in eastern Russia, which hosted most of Asia and Europe’s remaining populations, the second being split between Baffin Island and Greenland, which hosted North America and Western Europe’s remaining populations, and Antarctica which mostly hosted South America and Africa’s remaining populations. There were some other colonies located in central Africa, China, Australia and Polynesia, however it appears that these colonies were either abandoned or destroyed._

_It wasn’t until several years after the colonies became established that it was discovered that the not only had the radiation rendered the earth uninhabitable and killed billions of people through radiation sickness and related illnesses, it had rendered much of the remaining population sterile._

_And so began what was called the ‘Omega Project’, omega being the final letter of the Greek alphabet: humanity’s last hope. The Omega Project was a joint project undertaken by the three colonies with the purpose of saving the human race from extinction._

_From what we’ve been able to piece together from the few remaining records, the Omega Project initially focused on increasing fertility in females. Researchers soon discovered that radiation and stress affected mammals with an estrous cycle less than humans with a menstrual cycle. Now there are several differences between the two mammalian cycles. Key is that there are more external signs of fertility in estrous cycles and the greater variety in cycle length and frequency._

_From there, scientists began to research how to incorporate the estrous cycle into humans, the key being gene splicing. Human embryos were injected with DNA from estrous mammals with the aim of replacing the human menstrual cycle. Although only intended for female human embryos, it appears that one lab attempted the gene splicing on male embryos as well, with surprising results. This resulted in what we now know as female omegas and male omegas._

_While it seems counterintuitive to have males also carry offspring, with a gestation period of 9 to 10 months, the greatest burden of the human reproductive system is its gestation period. Prior to the Omega Project, one male could, theoretically, sire hundreds of offspring in a year. One female, however, could only produce one child per year and a half. Of course there was the possibility of multiple births, however, those were rare and with decreased fertility, a female being able to carry one child to term was considered miraculous. Thus, female and male omegas were actively produced, the more humans that could carry children, the greater the chance at repopulating the human species._

_With the creation of Omegas, both male and female, the Omega Project realized that it was also necessary to create the omegas’ counterpart. While human males could impregnate omegas, fertility rates were still low and despite the omegas’ exterior fertility signals, for example mating pheromones, these were not easily detectable by what we will call, ‘homo sapiens originem’._

_Thus, research turned to males that could sense an omega’s fertility cycle and were more compatible with the omega reproductive system. This led to the creation of the Alpha. A genetically engineered male designed to be more virile and compatible with omegas, mainly through their pheromone production to attract omegas. Additionally, the Alphas were imbued with traits of greater physical strength and stamina. Some would also argue that they were imbued with greater intelligence, however, research now states that this perceived increased intelligence can generally be attributed to greater educational opportunities post- Calamitas II which you will likely study in your World History class. Other traits that were created, although it does not appear to have been intentional resulted in Alpha pheromone production that can affect those around them, most commonly seen in the release of aggressive pheromones to mark territory or to assert dominance. We’ll cover that more later._

_Now, here is the most scientifically fascinating part, at least in my opinion. While the first omegas and alphas were lab-created, as they began to reproduce, they produced omegas, alphas and, as a result of their genetic origin materials: ‘homo sapiens originem’, Betas. These offspring maintained the original reproductive cycles and systems of ‘homo sapiens originem’. Now you might think that today’s Betas are the original human species prior to the events of Calamitas I & II, but you would be wrong. This is because Betas have within their DNA, dormant alpha and omega genetic material. So, while Betas may not present Alpha or Omega, they are no longer ‘homo sapiens originem’, hence the sub-gender “Beta.” You may ask what happened to ‘homo sapiens originem’ and the consensus is, is that that species is now extinct due to the success of the Omega project and because of the inherent infertility of the species due to long-term radiation exposure and poisoning. _

_Another result of natural reproduction was the advent of ‘Alpha females’. Although the original Alphas were all males, female Alphas soon began to appear. They too had increased physical characteristics like their male counterparts and also possessed the same pheromones that allowed them to assert dominance over other Alphas and Omegas. Interestingly as well, like Beta females, they retained the menstrual cycle although with lower rates of fertility. What we’ve discovered over time, however, is that Alpha females have a higher likelihood of producing Alpha offspring, especially if the sire is Alpha. This is likely the reason the Alpha female sub-gender has continued to exist despite having lower fertility rates than the other sub-genders. After all, as well all know, following the events of Calamitus II, the Alpha sub-gender was considered the superior sub-gender. As much I would like to delve into that topic, I’ll leave that for your Cultural Studies Class._

_In terms of sub-gender, male Omegas are the rarest because the omega gene in males requires four recessive genes, two for pheromone production and two to activate the estrous reproductive system, which recessive genes rarely combine with the Y chromosome. Well, it is a little bit more complicated than just the recessive genes and chromosomes but that is a topic for advanced genetics should you decide to pursue biology in university. This is because, in addition to the complicated gene and chromosomal situation, we also have to take into account the phenomena of ‘Presenting’._

_Now where the issue of sub-genders gets most interesting, in my opinion, is the phenomena of ‘Presenting’. Lab-created omegas and alphas were alpha or omega from creation. When offspring were reproduced, however, whether that offspring was Omega, Alpha or Beta remained unclear until ‘Presentment’ or what would scientifically be categorized as sexual maturity. Physically, Omega, Alpha and Betas males have the same reproductive organs, as do Omega, Alpha and Beta females. What sparks the physical change is the production of hormones when the individual reaches sexual maturity which then results in the individual presenting as Alpha, Omega or Beta._

_This remains the same today and we have now classified ‘male’ and ‘female’ as the primary genders and ‘Alpha, Omega, Beta’ as the sub-genders. Now, you would think that tests could be done to determine sub-gender at birth, however, like we discussed earlier, all humans now possess Alpha and Omega DNA. The key issue is whether this DNA remains dormant, as in the cases of Betas or ‘presents’ as either Alpha or Omega. Scientists have yet to determine exactly what triggers the hormones that lead to ‘Presenting’. Some speculate the answer to this might be found in the lost research from the Omega Project._

_Now that we’ve covered the basic history of the origin of the sub-genders, let’s move on to the biology of Alphas, Omegas and Betas._

_As we all know, Betas do not possess the same pheromone producing capabilities as Alphas and Omegas. That is not to say they do not produce pheromones, however, these pheromones are far less potent and unlikely influence any behavious beyond basic sexual attraction which has been present in the human species since ‘home sapiens originem’. Betas also lack the active olfactory receptors necessary to detect Omega and Alpha pheromones. In this sense, they have a potential advantage in that they are ‘immune’, shall we say, to the effects of Omega and Alpha pheromones._

_Omegas possess scent glands that are located at the base of the neck, right where the shoulder meets the neck. Some are located on the left, others on the right. There appears to be a correlation between the individual’s dominant hand and the placement of the glands. These glands produce pheromones to signal and attract mates when the Omega is in estrus, often colloquially referred to as ‘in heat’. Now, historically, after the events of Calamitus II, an Omega has been characterized as ‘out of control’, sexually wanton and excessively lustful while in estrus. This is not true. While there may be increased sexual appetite, an Omega being in estrus simply means that they are in their fertile window, much like an Alpha or Beta female being in the ovulation portion of their cycle._

_Omegas also produce milder pheromones while not in estrus, signifying their status. It has also been theorized pheromones are released to attract a long-term mate. There have also been documented instances of Omegas releasing pheromones with soothing and healing properties, not unlike a cat’s purr. Of course Omegas do not ‘purr’ as that is a physical manifestation, however, the effect is similar._

_In present day, Omegas wear scent blockers to avoid activating reactions among Alphas who are most affected by their pheromones. Suppressants, often in injection form, are also utilized to reduce the number of in estrus cycles and eliminate some of the discomforts that accompany those cycles. Suppressants can also be used as a form of birth control. Now, the social impacts and potential inequalities of Omegas needing to use these items I will leave again for your Cultural Studies Class._

_Alphas also release pheromones, however, they do not have concentrated scent glands like Omegas. Their pheromones disperse through their pores and sweat glands, although concentrated releases from their facial and neck area have been recorded in instances of ‘scent marking’. Because they lack concentrated scent glands, scent blockers are ineffective. Instead, masking sprays have been moderately effective. In more extreme cases, where an Alpha cannot control their pheromones or they have irregular pheromones or pheromone production, suppressants in pill form are often utilized but often with severe side effects._

_With respect to pheromones, those of you who of presented as Alpha or Omega will know this, but for those who are Beta, an interesting phenomenon that has been observed with respect to these pheromones is the ‘Neutral Pheromone’, which is what we call an individual’s base pheromone. These pheromones often described as being similar to aromas we find in our everyday lives. For example, Alphas are typically described to have more earthy and woody scents while Omegas are typically described to have more sweet and floral scents. Chemical tests have been conducted on these pheromones and have concluded that their chemical makeup is significantly different from the scents they are reported to resemble. This is also backed by the fact that pheromones are mostly undetectable to Betas. Scientists theorize that this association to known smells is an adaptation of the human brain to associate compatible pheromones with pleasing scents._

_Now as to…._

Akaashi sat in his biology class, chin propped on his hand as he half-listened to his teacher lecture on the biological history of the sub-genders. It was mostly information he knew already and had read as part of the required reading materials for class. He resisted the urge to yawn. He had stayed up until 2 a.m. last night, finishing his homework after another late practice with Bokuto. It had been almost three weeks since the practice match with the third years and an uneasy tension had settled over the club. Nakamura had quit the club leaving only Fujita, Komeda, Gotou and Akaashi among the first-year members.

Coach Yamiji was often late for practice, looking troubled. Akaashi overheard the two team managers whispering about the coach being called away to meetings being held about this year’s Summer Interhigh tournament. Although meetings about the tournament were not out of the norm, what was unsettling, according to the managers, was the number of meetings being held and the secrecy surrounding the meetings.

Whatever it was, Akaashi was sure it would become clear soon enough. He didn’t pay it much mind considering that it wasn’t likely that he would be participating in any of the Summer Interhigh Tournament’s matches. At most, he would be there in a support capacity to help manage equipment, uniforms and travel along with the managers.

‘ _And maybe as an extra-practice partner for Bokuto_ ,’ Akaashi thought, his mind going back to their subsequent extra-practices. Bokuto had always suggested extra practice once Coach Yamiji had called an end to their regular practices and all the members of the club save for Akaashi always beat a hasty retreat.

Akaashi’s mind turned back to the visit Komi and Konoha had paid him two days ago right before afternoon classes were slated to begin.

_‘You know you don’t always have to practice with Bokuto right?’ Komi had stated._

_‘Yeah, if you need help coming up with excuses or something I’ll help!” Konoho added._

_“What!?” Komi exclaimed, “You’re not going to offer to switch places with him? How cold!”_

_“Hell no! I’m nice but I’m not that nice!” Konoha retorted. “Bokuto’s extra practices are brutal and endless!”_

_“It’s fine,” Akaashi replied seriously, “It’s fun for me, being in the presence of a star.”_

_Komi and Konoha gaped at him._

_“What? A star? Bokuto?” Komi balked._

_“Oh man,” Konoha groaned. “You seem normal but you’re actually a weirdo aren’t ya?”_

_“A weirdo?” Akaashi frowned._

_“Yeah, just like Bokuto.”_

Akaashi idly tapped his pencil against his notebook as he glanced up the hallway window next to his desk where Komi and Konoha had appeared two days ago. It was currently closed right now but had been open when the two second-years had visited him. Although Konoha had called him a ‘weirdo’ he didn’t sense any ill-will from the ‘jack of all trades’, rather it seemed like a statement of fact, to group him together with Bokuto. In what sense Konoha had both labelled them ‘weirdos’, Akaashi was still unsure, but it didn’t really matter to him that Konoha and Komi didn’t understand his willingness to accommodate the ace.

He suppressed another yawn as he glanced at the clock, only a few more minutes until lunch. He ignored the queasy feeling building in his stomach and glanced across the classroom. He idly wished for what was probably the 100th time that his assigned seat was next to one of the exterior windows and not the hallway. He stared out at the sky and noted that it was clear and sunny.

The school bell finally rang, signalling it was time for lunch. Akaashi heaved a sigh of relief and carefully stowed his notebook and textbook in his desk and pulled out his lunch. Normally he would simply stay at his desk and eat his lunch while reading a novel or reviewing his notes but the unsettled feeling in his gut continued to grow and he felt the need to leave the classroom.

Akaashi grabbed his novel and lunch and rushed out of the classroom and turned towards the school library, heading for the spot he had discovered last week. He bowed his head politely to the librarian who smiled in return before he threaded through the stacks to the back of the library and to the doors leading outside. Akaashi had learned from the librarian that, several years ago, an addition had been built onto the school building and the rooftop of the new addition had been connected to the fourth-floor library and converted into a small rooftop patio of sorts. Because it was connected to the library, it wasn’t a popular spot with the students, so it was usually empty, which suited Akaashi just fine.

With a heavy sigh, Akaashi slid down onto the concrete floor, leaning back against the building. He opened the plastic konbini bag in his hands and pulled out one of the two the onigiri he had bought on his way to school that morning. He peeled off the wrapper, picked up his novel and began to read as he slowly ate his lunch, his stomach still queasy.

Akaashi was a few pages into his novel when the door to the library burst open.

“Hey, hey, hey! I found ya!” A now familiar voice boomed.

Akaashi looked up in surprise at Bokuto who practically bounced out onto the patio, an overflowing konbini bag clutched in his outstretched hand.

“Bokuto-san? What are you doing here?” Akaashi asked hesitantly. ‘ _He’s not going to insist on practicing during lunch now too is he?’_ he thought with a bit of alarm.

“I’m here to eat lunch with you!” Bokuto grinned as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and dropped down into a cross-legged position in front of Akaashi, rummaging through the plastic bag in his hands, pulling out various snacks. “Today was a super lucky day!” he announced proudly, “The vending machine was restocked with my favourite drinks and I found an extra 1,000 yen bill in my wallet when I went to the konbini this morning!”

“I think that was the 1,000 yen you were supposed to pay back to Shirofuku-san,” Akaashi intoned dryly.

“Geh! I totally forgot! Yukippe’s gonna yell at me again,” Bokuto looked sheepish. “I’ll just pay her back tomorrow. Here, you want one?” Bokuto held out a yakisoba bread, waving it in Akaashi’s face. “I bought three!”

“I’m fine, thank you Bokuto-san. I have my own lunch.”

“Ok then,” Bokuto shrugged, ripping open the plastic wrap and shoving the bread in his mouth. “Spicy cod roe?” he asked, his mouth full, squinting at the onigiri in Akaashi’s hand.

Akaashi simply nodded. 

“Whatcha reading?” Bokuto asked around another mouthful, already pulling out another yakisoba bread from his bag.

Akaashi marked the page in his novel and placed it down on the ground next to him. “ _A Wild Sheep Chase_. It’s a novel by Murakami Haruki”

Bokuto cocked his head to the side. “That’s a weird title. What’s it about?”

“It’s about a private investigator that travels to Hokkaido to track down a sheep with a star mark that appeared in a life insurance advertisement.”

“Uh…” Bokuto blinked at the obscure plot summary. “Are you reading it for one of your classes? ‘Cause I don’t remember having to read anything like that last year…”

“No.”

“So, you’re reading it for fun?”

Akaashi contemplated the ace’s question as he finished eating his first onigiri and unwrapped his second onigiri. “I’m reading it because it’s interesting.”

“Hmm,” Bokuto replied around another mouthful. “Salted salmon?” he nodded towards the second onigiri in Akaashi’s hands. “You like traditional Japanese flavours huh?”

“I guess,” Akaashi shrugged. “We usually eat traditional Japanese dishes at home.”

“Is that all you’re eating?” Bokuto asked after a minute of silent chewing, eyeing Akaashi’s now empty bag.

“Yes.”

“That’s not enough!” Bokuto exclaimed loudly, “No wonder your arms are like sticks! You need to eat more so you can get guns like mine!” Bokuto flexed proudly, patting his right bicep with his left hand, his half-eaten yakisoba bread dangling from his mouth.

_‘Or become an Alpha like you,’_ Akaashi thought bitterly, his stomach tightening. “I eat more than enough at home and mfph-!!!”

Akaashi was interrupted mid-sentence when Bokuto ripped the plastic off his third yakisoba bread and stuffed one end to Akaashi’s mouth, mid-speech.

“Now that you’ve taken a bite, ya gotta finish it!” Bokuto grinned triumphantly.

Akaashi begrudgingly took a bite and wiped the sauce off the corner of his mouth as he chewed. “Bokuto-san, you know that yakisoba bread is predominantly carbohydrates right?” he said after he swallowed.

“So?” Bokuto raised one of his brows.

“You need protein to build muscle.”

“Protein? Ya mean like meat?”

“Yes, meat is one source of protein.”

Bokuto grinned widely. “Let’s go have yakiniku after Saturday’s practice! I know a really good place two stations over and it’s pretty cheap too! And then you’ll build some muscle, right?”

Akaashi considered for a moment. Going to eat yakiniku with Bokuto was tempting and it would save him from another uncomfortable night at the dinner table with his parents but it would set him back at least a week or two in saving for his new volleyball shoes.

“No.”

“No?” Bokuto blinked owlishly at Akaashi’s blunt answer. “Why not?”

“I can’t afford it.”

“Eh? Well I can trea-”

“No, I don’t like being beholden to anyone,” Akaashi didn’t let Bokuto finish his sentence.

“Wha-? Beholden? Geez, ya sure like to use big fancy words.” Bokuto pouted. “Do your parents not give you enough of an allowance?”

“I’m saving my allowance.”

“What for?” Bokuto was tenacious.

“New volleyball shoes.”

Bokuto grinned. “Cool! Which ones do ya think you’ll get?”

“I was thinking maybe Nike or Mizunos.”

“Mizunos are good. Ya might wanna try Asics too. They make good court shoes.” Bokuto opened a bag of chips before continuing. “Is that why ya never wanna get snacks with me after practice?”

Akaashi nodded silently as he continued to eat the yakiniku bread Bokuto had shoved unceremoniously into his mouth.

“Oh good! I was starting to think that you didn’t like me or something like that.”

“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t stay and practice with you,” Akaashi pointed out.

“I guess that’s true,” Bokuto agreed. “Well, I like ya! Your tosses are the best!”

“Ah.”

“You could stand to be a bit more fired up ya know!” Bokuto grumbled at Akaashi’s apparent lack of enthusiasm. “Your team’s ace is praising you ya know!”

“Thank you,” Akaashi intoned blandly.

“Hey!” Bokuto burst out suddenly, suddenly changing topics again. “You’re eating my yakisoba bread right now!”

“And?”

“Well, ya said you didn’t wanna be beholden or whatever.”

“This is different,” Akaashi replied easily.

“How so?”

“You assaulted me with the yakisoba bread. The sentence for your crime is that you forfeit your rights to the yakisoba bread, therefore I can eat it with no repercussions.” Akaashi idly wondered if Bokuto would understand his dry humour.

“Eh-?” Bokuto grumbled, scrunching his nose in deep thought. “I don’t get half of what ya said. Ah, but,” Bokuto’s expression brightened. “I wanted to give you the bread and now you’ve accepted the bread, so it all worked out!”

_‘How nice it must be to so happy go lucky,’_ Akaashi thought wistfully.

“Hey, can I come?”

“What?” Akaashi blinked in confusion. Any more sudden changes in topic and he was going to get whiplash.

“When you go buy your volleyball shoes. Can I come with?”

“Ah, sure.”

“Awesome! Let me know when. Ah!” Bokuto pulled his cellphone from his pocket, “Let’s exchange contact info! Do you have NFC transfer on your phone?”

Akaashi nodded and pulled out his phone from his blazer pocket, unlocked it and tapped it against Bokuto’s phone, wirelessly exchanging contact information.

Bokuto grinned, tapped something into it and then pocketed his phone.

Akaashi swallowed the last bite of the yakisoba bread and licked the last bit of sauce off his lips. He would need to stop by the water fountain before returning to class or he would be thirsty all afternoon. He’d stopped buying his favourite bottled green tea two weeks ago in so he could reach his savings goal faster.

Akaashi felt something cold shoved roughly into his cheek as he was silently calculating how much longer before he’d saved enough for a new pair of shoes.

“What?” he reached up to grab the offending object. It was a boxed yogurt drink, strawberry flavoured.

“The drink attacked you, you have to drink it as a penalty now.” Bokuto grinned.

_‘He’s got it completely backwards,’_ Akaashi laughed inwardly as he poked the straw into the carton and took a sip, quenching his thirst. “Ah, sure,” he replied. 

* * *

Later that week, for the first time since Akaashi had joined the club, Coach Yamiji had arrived before any of the club members. He wore a sombre expression, watching quietly as the club members trickled into the gym. 

“There’s no practice today,” Coach Yamiji held up his hand, stopping the first-years when they started to set up for practice. “We’ll just be holding a meeting today.”

The two managers soon arrived, both carrying large bundles of envelopes, sharing matching sombre expressions as they stood next to the coach.

Bokuto arrived next, running into the gym with his usual exuberance. He stopped short when he saw that the first-years weren’t setting up for practice.

“What’s going on coach?” Bokuto asked the grey-haired man. 

“We’re going to hold a team meeting. We’ll wait until the rest of the club members arrive,” Coach Yamiji replied.

“Yukippe?” Bokuto tried to get an answer out of the shorter manager. She simply shook her head in response, whispering, “Coach will let you know soon enough.”

Bokuto frowned and walked over to Akaashi, shooting him a questioning look.

“I don’t know what the meeting is about.”

“So, no practice today?”

“Apparently not, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto huffed, crossing his arms and bouncing on the balls of his feet in impatience.

Five minutes later, all the club members had assembled in the gym and Coach Yamiji rose wearily from his seat.

“Most have you have probably noticed that I’ve been late to several practices this past month,” Coach Yamiji began solemnly. “I was late because I had been attending several meetings with the coaches’ association for the National High School Volleyball Association.”

Coach Yamiji sighed heavily before continuing. “Due to an incident during one of the preliminary qualifiers for the Spring Nationals last year, the Association has decided to change the requirements for participation in all official matches.”

Akaashi’s stomach dropped. He had a feeling he knew which ‘incident’ the coach was referring to.

“Effective immediately, in order for a team to participate in any official matches, all team members must undergo complete a medical examination and register their sub-gender with the Association. Each member’s sub-gender will be published in the Association’s official databook and tournament pamphlets.”

Unconsciously, Akaashi’s fingers twitched, the fingers of his left hand running up and down the ring-finger on his right hand. It was a self-soothing motion that he had developed during middle school.

The Association’s databook and tournament pamphlets were published online and distributed in paper form at all official matches. They contained team photos as well as biographical information about each team and its players including birth date, year, height and previous team affiliations. And now, Akaashi thought with a rising dread, it would also list each player’s sub-gender.

“Shirofuku-kun and Suzumeda-kun have the medical examination forms that will need to be filled out by your family physician. Alternatively, you can make an appointment with Fukurodani clinic to have your medical exam completed there.” At this, the two managers began to distribute the manila envelopes in their hands to the club members.

“I have to admit that I am disappointed by the Association’s decision to require sub-gender registration of all players. I regret that I must inform you that if you refuse to undergo the medical examination, you will no longer be able to participate in club activities as it will disqualify the entire club from participating in any official tournaments.”

“You’ll also find in your packages information on the new rules and regulations with respect to sub-genders, the list of approved and mandatory sub-gender products and penalties for rule contraventions.”

“We’ll cancel practice today so can go over the forms and make arrangements to have your medical exams completed. You will also need the consent forms to be signed by your parents or guardians. Your completed paperwork must be returned to one of us,” Coach Yamiji gestured to himself and the two managers, “within two weeks or you will be ineligible to continue with club activities.”

The gym was filled with the sounds of rustling paper as the club members examined the contents of their envelopes.

Akaashi pulled open his own envelope and examined the new regulations. ‘ _All Omegas must use one of the following approved scent blocker patches during all official matches.’_ Akaashi read, his eyes skimming down the page. _‘All Alphas must use one of the following approved masking sprays during all official matches.’_

“What the hell,” he heard Tsukamoto mutter from behind him. “We have to use masking sprays now to participate in matches? This is bullshit!”

“Actually,” Coach Yamiji interjected sternly, his gaze fixed on the third-year setter, “Your little display during the practice match with your underclassmen convinced me to vote in favour of this new rule. Now, instead of complaining, I suggest you use this time to make the necessary arrangements or I will be expecting to receive your club resignation letter.”

“Huh,” Akaashi heard Konoha mutter to Komi, “Now the unevenness of that match makes sense. Coach was seeing how the Alphas would handle the pressure. Although he was probably wasn’t expecting Tsukamoto to lose control first.”

Akaashi stuffed the papers back into his envelope, bile rising in his throat as he followed the coach out of the gymnasium, a question nagging at him.

“Coach Yamiji,” Akaashi approached the middle-aged man who stopped when he noticed the first-year’s approach. “Is this because of the last year’s match between Suzumeoka and Nekoma?”

Coach Yamiji nodded. “I take it you heard about the match?”

“I was there,” Akaashi replied.

“I see. You are aware of the cause of the fight then.”

Akaashi nodded. “Was it… Was Suzumeoka behind the decision to register and publish all player’s sub-genders?”

Coach Yamiji looked startled. “Yes, they were, actually. That’s very perceptive of you Akaashi-kun. Many of us opposed it but Suzumeoka has powerful connections and they’re not the only ones that are prejudiced. Well, I’m sure you can figure out the rest.”

Akaashi nodded, thinking back to the Nekoma libero, Yaku. The libero had clearly meant to keep his sub-gender hidden for obvious reasons. _‘Suzumeoka likely blamed the cause of the fight on the Omega and probably fabricated allegations about the dangers of an Omega concealing their status. That and the Alphas wanted to keep their dominance by forcing all Omega players to out themselves, thus deterring them from participating in the sport,’_ Akaashi thought bitterly, his disgust at the Alphas who felt threatened by the Yaku’s skill returning full force.

“I hope this won’t discourage you from remaining on the team,” Coach Yamiji brought him out of his thoughts. “You’re a valuable addition to the team and it would he a shame to lose you so early.”

“No, I plan to stay.” Akaashi replied seriously. 

“Good,” Coach Yamiji gave a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll see you at our next practice.”

Akaashi watched the retreating figure of Fukurodani’s coach, his fingers returning to their fidgeting. Sub-gender issues always made him anxious. But he also wasn’t going to back down because some Alphas were trying to throw their weight around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so lots of world-building in this chapter. But it's important for the rest of the story. It also explains the differences in this story's omegaverse. 
> 
> I used to be a huge biology nerd so I wanted to make a stab at making the omegaverse semi-realistic. I know a lot of the biology is probably impossible but yeah....
> 
> Chapter was getting too long so the next chapter will pick up immediately after this one.


	5. Two for One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi learns more about his Fukurodani teammates after his status as a Beta is revealed to the rest of the team.

_Two for One_

* * *

Akaashi stood in the hall just outside of the gym, his hands continuing their worried fidgeting. Coach Yamiji had just exited the building by the exterior doors just beyond the club rooms.

“What’s Suzumeoka got to do with all of this?” Konoha asked from behind him.

Akaashi just about jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t heard the second-year approach. Turning around, he blinked in surprise as he noticed that all the second-years, Konoha, Komi, Sarukui, Washio and Bokuto had followed him.

“It has to do with a match they played during the Tokyo preliminaries for the Spring Nationals,” Akaashi answered the sandy-haired second-year.

“The one where both Nekoma and Suzumeoka were disqualified?” Washio clarified.

Akaashi nodded.

“Why’d they get disqualified again?” Komi asked. “Something about a fight?” Komi looked at Bokuto.

“I’m not sure,” Bokuto scratched at the back of his neck. “Kuroo was kinda vague, just said something about the other team being assholes and that he didn’t wanna talk about it.”

“Didn’t he get a red-card?” Sarukui asked. “For starting the fight?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto frowned. “But the other guy threw the first punch. And Kuroo’s a good bro!”, he insisted fervently, “He wouldn’t start a fight for no reason.”

Akaashi hid his surprise. He guessed from the conversation that Bokuto was referring to the messy-haired middle blocker from Nekoma. And from the way he talked about the middle-blocker, it seemed like they were friends.

“You told Coach that you were there. Do you know what the fight was about?” Washio looked pointedly at Akaashi.

Akaashi nodded reluctantly. He didn’t think it was his place to reveal the libero’s sub-status. Then again, the new Association rules would do just that.

“And?” The tall middle-blocker pressed.

“Nekoma’s libero…” Akaashi began hesitantly. “In the second set, it was accidentally revealed that he’s an Omega. The Alphas, one in particular, on Suzumeoka’s team didn’t like getting bested by him.”

“Eh?” Sarukui raised a brow. “Suzuki’s not an Omega.”

“Ah, no”, The twitching of Akaashi’s fingers increased. “I think his name is Yaku. He was part of the starting line-up.” Internally, his brain struggled to keep up. ‘ _The second-years seem to be awfully familiar with Nekoma’s team. But how?’_

“I don’t remember there being a ‘Yaku’ on Nekoma’s team.” Komi interjected. “Do any of you?” he looked at the rest of the group.

They all shook their heads except for Sarukui who looked pensive.

“There was a first-year libero, short, with light brown hair? I only saw him once or twice and I don’t think he played in any of the matches we had with Nekoma. I don’t remember much, just that I sensed something odd about him…”

“Odd as in?” Konoha tapped his nose.

Sarukui nodded. “Yeah, but I would never have pegged him as an Omega.”

Konoha turned to Akaashi, pointing at Sarukui’s nose. “Saru’s got a really sensitive nose. If you’re ever in doubt, just ask him. And, when shit hits the fan, because there’s bound to be Alphas with their heads stuck up their asses about these new rules,” Konoha rolled his eyes, “stick close to these two.” He jerked his thumb towards Sarukui and Washio. “They’re decent as far as Alphas go.”

Sarukui laughed. “Decent? That’s high praise coming from you!”

“Hey!” Bokuto squawked, “What about me?”

Komi laughed. “Saru says you’re totally oblivious when it comes to pheromones.”

“Am not!”

Saru smirked. “Washio and I have lost count of the number of times we’ve had to head off the Alphas you’ve somehow managed to piss off. And the fact that you don’t notice pisses them off even more.”

“It’s not that often,” Bokuto grumbled. “Besides,” he looked at Konoha, “Why are you telling Akaashi to stick close to Saru and Washio? Akaashi’s smart, he can take care of himself!”

Konoha slung an arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, “Us Betas,” he pointed at himself, Komi and Akaashi, “gotta look out for each other.”

“Eh-!?” Bokuto exclaimed, eyes large. “Akaashi! You’re a Beta?”

Akaashi stiffened under Konoha’s arm, nodding minutely. Konoha glanced at Akaashi, his gaze serious before he quickly reverted to his jovial manner.

“See!” Konoha rolled his eyes, “Oblivious! Did you think Akaashi was an Alpha? Yeah, he’s tall and all but… Good God, you didn’t think he was an Omega did you?” Konoha asked, horrified.

“What!? No!” Bokuto shook his head frantically.

“Then what did you think he was?” Komi asked, curious.

Bokuto cocked his head to the side. “I guess I didn’t really think about it?”

“Hopeless!” Konoha laughed, giving Komi a pointed look and steering Akaashi towards a corner of the gym. “You guys go on ahead, I’m gonna chat with Akaashi here for a bit”. Behind him, Akaashi noticed Komi herding the other second-years towards the locker rooms, forcibly dragging Bokuto by arm as the ace craned his neck to stare at Akaashi as he was pulled away.

When the other second-years were out of sight and earshot, Konoha turned to Akaashi, his expression serious. “I think I owe you an apology,” he sighed. “I get the feeling that I’ve just stepped on a big landmine or something.”

“Konoha-san?” Akaashi asked, unsure what the second-year was getting at.

“I’m sure you have your reasons and what not but I get the sense that your sub-gender is a sensitive topic for you. Not really sure why because us Betas are awesome,” Konoha grinned weakly, “but I get that there are drawbacks, especially when we have to compete with Alphas.”

Akaashi nodded.

“And,” Konoha took a deep breath as he continued, “I wasn’t meaning to out you or anything like that but well… with things being the way they are, you’re gonna be outed soon enough. Besides, it was pretty obvious, maybe not to Bokuto, but to everyone else.”

“Obvious?”

“Well yeah,” Konoha fixed Akaashi with a narrow stare. “I mean, at first I thought you might be an Alpha but you don’t act like an entitled prick like a lot of them do.” Konoha didn’t have to specifically mention the third-years for Akaashi to know he was referring to them.

“Also,” Konoha continued, “it became pretty obvious to me when you didn’t pick up on the Alpha pheromones Tsukamoto’s been giving off towards you.

“What? But how? You’re Beta too…”

“Saru told Komi and I that we should keep an eye out for you. He said Tsukamoto’s been giving of some pretty bad vibes whenever he’s around you.”

“Since the practice match you mean?” Akaashi asked. He had noticed the angry glares that the third-year setter had been sending his way ever since Bokuto had praised his tosses during the practice match.

Konoha shook his head. “No, even before then. It’s pretty clear that he feels that his position as starting setter is threatened by you and he’s felt that way for a while.”

Akaashi felt his blood run cold. “What?”

“Yeah,” Konoha sighed. “And that’s why we were saying Bokuto’s oblivious. He really should have realized by now that his clear favouritism of you is seriously pissing off Tsukamoto. Which is why I told you to stick close to Saru and Washio. Saru will be the first to notice when trouble’s on its way and Washio’s solid. Like, really solid. He’s quiet and unassuming most times but none of the third-years would dare go up against him.”

“But Bokuto-san… He’s an Alpha right? I mean, he has to be…” Akaashi’s head was spinning.

“Oh, he’s an Alpha alright, as purebred as they come. But in reality, he’s basically an overgrown child. All he wants to do is have fun and play volleyball so he’s pretty much unaware of anything that isn’t volleyball or fun. My guess is that he has the inborn ability to exert his dominance over any Alpha or Omega but he has no interest in doing that and probably doesn’t even know how. Well, that’s just my guess though.”

Akaashi blinked dumbly, his mind whirling to process all the new information.

“Anyways, I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t realize being a Beta is a sore spot for you. I don’t know why and it’s none of my business if you don’t want to tell me. And yeah, we’re in a weirdly tense situation since all the third-years are Alphas.”

“So they are all Alphas,” Akaashi murmured. “I thought so, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a disadvantage of being Beta. We can never know for sure. Just know that Komi and I are in the same boat and we’ve got your back. Yeah?”

“Thank you Konoha-san.” Akaashi did genuinely appreciate the jack-of-all-trades’ gesture.

“Don’t mention it. Like I said, us Betas gotta stick together.”

* * *

Akaashi sighed, staring up at the sky through the leaves of the oak tree. He sat at the base of the tree, back against the trunk, legs splayed out in front of him as he caught his breath. The weather had steadily turned warmer and he was glad for the shade that the tree offered against the now setting sun. 

He had been practicing his tosses since the early afternoon hours, hoping that physical exercise would chase away his thoughts surrounding the events of the last few days. Following the club meeting he had dutifully brought home the new registration and consent forms required by the National High School Volleyball Association and his father had made an appointment for him with their family physician to have the forms filled out.

_“Ah, good afternoon Akaashi-kun. It’s been a while,” the grey-haired physician greeted him, shuffling through the paperwork on his desk. “I seethat we have your most recent lab results, let me just go over them… Hmmm…”_

_“Is there something wrong?” Akaashi asked politely, sitting straight backed on the stool across from the aging doctor._

_“Oh no, just a small variance, well within the standard deviation. It’s not statistically significant. Let’s see, you’re 16 now, turning 17 at the end of year. Absolutely no presence of Alpha hormones. Obviously, no Omega hormones either, since that would be statistically impossible given your family history. Besides, you’re well beyond the age of presentment for Omegas. You’re also beyond the age of presentment for Alphas. It’s a shame really, I was quite certain that you would present as Alpha given your Alpha lineage, not many people have two sets of grandparents that are both Alphas.”_

_The doctor turned to his computer and clicked through some files. “Ah, I know there’s some literature out there that your mother referred to me earlier this year, about the chance that you might present late as Alpha but given your lab results, I would say that it’s highly unlikely if not impossible. I can confidently confirm on your forms that your sub-gender is Beta. That should be sufficient, yes?”_

_“Yes sensei,” Akaashi replied in monotone, “That will be more than sufficient, thank you.”_

Akaashi sighed as he continued to remember the events of the past couple of days. Following his doctor’s appointment, he’d brought the completed medical forms home for his parents to sign off on so they could be released to the Association. His mother had cried all afternoon after reading the doctor’s certification that her son was Beta. The final nail in the coffin of her hopes that her son might still present as Alpha.

If it had ended at that, it might have been bearable. Matters only got worse when Akaashi’s mother learned that his sub-status would be made public for the world to see; for the world to know of her _shame_. Akaashi’s mother never once voiced out loud that she felt ashamed of her son, but her silences screamed of her perceived humiliation, so much so that Akaashi grasped at any excuse to maximize his time away from his parents’ house.

Which brought him full circle to the most recent events Akaashi was desperately trying no to think about.

Bokuto hadn’t once asked him for help practicing spikes since he had been ‘outed’ as Beta.

Granted it had been less than a week since Bokuto had learned that he was Beta. At first, Akaashi hadn’t thought much of it but each day, doubts begin to creep in from the recesses of his mind. Logically, his brain told him that Bokuto had never shown any form of prejudice towards any of the ‘lesser’ sub-genders. In fact, everything he knew about the ace led him to believe that Bokuto didn’t care about sub-genders, especially given the fact that he had declared that he’d never given any thought to Akaashi’s sub-gender. Logically he knew this.

But then he had discovered that Bokuto had continued to practice by himself, waiting until he thought all the other club members had left. Akaashi had discovered this by accident, when he had stayed late to work on his homework at school, preferring the empty classrooms to the stifling atmosphere at his parents’ house, and had noticed the that the lights were on in the gym. He’d peered into the gym from the shadows and witnessed Bokuto in the middle of practicing his serves.

The treacherous side of his mind began to spin theories. _‘It’s not that he doesn’t care about sub-genders, it’s because he assumed you were Alpha, like him,’_ the menacing voice in his head hissed. _‘Why would an Alpha prodigy like him waste his time with a Beta like you? You can never hope to match his skill.’_

“Stop it,” he whispered to himself, squeezing the volleyball gripped between his hands, the flesh under his fingernails turning white from the pressure. “Just stop thinking!”

He was still muttering under his breath, willing his treacherous and useless thoughts to stop when the back door opened and his mother stepped out, her eyes vacant as she looked at her son.

“Dinner will be ready in 30 minutes,” she announced before curtly turning on her heel and re-entering the house.

Akaashi stared at the volleyball in his hands for a few moments before taking a deep breath and following his mother into the house. He quickly showered and dressed carefully in a collared shirt and black denim pants, combed his hair and descended soundlessly down the stairs towards the combined kitchen and dinning room. He glanced around the corner to see his father already seated at the dinning room table, his expression sombre.

Akaashi joined his father at the dinning room table and they sat in a stifling silence as his mother set various dishes in front of them: a bowl miso soup, a plate of grilled mackerel and steamed vegetables, a bowl of rice and a small dish of Japanese pickles. Once all three places were set, his mother sat down wordlessly and began to eat in a robotic manner.

“Thank you for the food,” Akaashi and his father murmured in unison, picking up their chopsticks to eat.

No one spoke, the only sound was the clink of chopsticks against plates.

Akaashi’s mother finished her dinner quickly and stood from the table, depositing her dishes in the sink before disappearing upstairs.

His father let out a deep sigh as he finished his own dinner before standing up from the dinning room table.

“Here’s your allowance for this week,” he slid a bank envelope across the table towards his son. “I’m going out for a drink.”

Akaashi heard the front door close behind his father, the auto-lock engaging. He finished his dinner in silence, gathering up his and his father’s dishes before filling up the sink to wash all the dishes.

 _‘Even your parents are desperate to get away from you,’_ the treacherous voice returned. ‘ _What a disappointment. If you presented as Alpha your parents could go back to being happy. But that’s never going to happen. The doctor said it was impossible.’_

“Stop it.”

 _‘Beta._ ’

“Stop it!” Akaashi pulled out the sink stopper with greater force than necessary, watching the soapy water swirl down the drain, wishing that his thoughts would wash away with the swirling water.

_‘If only you could be Alpha’._

His body moved of its own accord, feet shoving into his worn-out runners, his arms pushing the front door open, his legs propelling him into the night.

His body knew the route well, jogging down alleyways and side streets until he reached the river. His feet picked up speed as they hit the walkway stretching along the riverside, his run turning into a dead sprint. When his lungs burned and it felt like his legs would give out, the voice inside his head finally quieted.

He stumbled to a stop, straining to catch his breath as he gazed down into the river below him. The glint of light in the murky waters caught his eye and he looked up, noticing the tiny sliver of the new moon. And scattered around the narrow crescent of light was a peppering of stars twinkling against the night sky.

Akaashi inhaled deeply, finally managing to catch his breath.

It was pointless to keep going over what he couldn’t change. He should focus on what he could control. Tomorrow was a new day, a start to a new school week.

After another deep breath, Akaashi turned back towards his parents’ house, his mind reset and already formulating a game plan for the coming week.

* * *

Akaashi leaned back against the railing and felt the wind ruffle through his hair. He was siting on the rooftop patio connected to the library, but instead of his usual seat against the wall of the building, today he was sitting against the metal rail bordering the perimeter of the rooftop.

He relaxed and let his weight rest fully against the rails behind his back, wondering what it would feel like if the rail were to break and he were to plummet to the ground below, not unlike the protagonist in the novel he was reading.

Classes had finished hours ago and there was no volleyball practice today. Akaashi sat reading a novel recommended to him by the librarian, a re-telling of the Greek legend of Icarus, a young man escaping from a labyrinth with a pair wings fabricated from feathers and wax. While escaping, Icarus had become so entranced by the feeling of flying that he kept flying higher and higher until he soared too close to the sun and fell to his death in the ocean below.

Akaashi looked up when the door to the rooftop opened and a familiar head poked out.

“Hey.”

“Hello Bokuto-san.”

The ace shuffled over and dropped down in front of Akaashi, sitting in a cross-legged position. He was dressed in his school uniform, blazer missing, shirt untucked and necktie loosened. Akaashi had never seen Bokuto this quiet before. If Akaashi were to describe it, he would say that Bokuto seemed subdued, cowed almost as he sat quietly, staring at his feet.

“What are you still doing at school?” Akaashi asked, breaking the silence since the ace seemed reluctant to speak.

“An extra help session for Math.”

“I see.”

The ace fell silent again.

“How did you know I was here?” Akaashi tried again to engage the ace in conversation.

“I saw you from the gate when I was leaving.”

Akaashi turned his head and looked down at the school gate. He realised that in his current position, he was visible from the entrance to the school grounds. Something to keep in mind.

 _‘Time to bite the bullet_ ,’ Akaashi thought to himself as they fell into another uncomfortable silence.

“Bokuto-san, do you not want to practice spikes with me anymore?”

Bokuto’s head snapped up, eyes wide with alarm. “What? No! I do!”

“Then why have you stopped asking me to practice with you? I know you that you’ve been practicing by yourself when you think everyone has left.”

“Oh,” Bokuto looked dejected. “Konoha scolded me.”

“He scolded you?” Akaashi wondered at Bokuto’s choice of words, as though Konoha were his teacher or even his parent. Bokuto really did look like a child that had been chastised by a parent. “What about?” he prompted.

“He said I need to pay more attention to my surroundings because of the changes to the tournament rules. And he said I was too overbearing with you and that I needed to give you some space. And he said that you might be mad. Something about minefields and you being Beta and me never thinking before I speak and that if I wasn’t careful you might never want to practice with me again.” 

Bokuto continued to surprise him. He would have expected the ace to barrel along as he always did, happy-go-lucky and always running forward. And yet he had actually listened to Konoha and taken his words to heart. Akaashi had to admire his Beta upperclassman Konoha, who stood toe-to-toe with the second-year Alphas, adopting a leadership role among them. Granted, all the second-year Alphas seemed particularly good natured, but it spoke volumes of Konoha’s character that he was able to gain the Alphas’ respect and cooperation. _‘He must have gained their trust_ ,’ Akaashi thought. 

“I’m not mad at you or anyone else Bokuto-san. I’m just mad at my circumstances.”

“Eh?”

“Never mind Bokuto-san, I don’t think you’d understand.” Akaashi hesitated. “Or maybe you would?”

Bokuto perked up, looking at Akaashi with rapt attention.

“Bokuto-san, I’m guessing that your parents are both Alphas?”

“Yeah, I think so?” Bokuto cocked his head to the side, a gesture Akaashi had come to realize indicated that the ace was mulling over something. “All my cousins are Alphas, aunty and uncle too… Oh and Gramps is an Alpha too. I think Grams was too?”

 _‘Like Konoha said, a purebred Alpha. Plus, his unique physical traits point to an old lineage. But why is he mentioning his extended family?’_ Akaashi wondered to himself.

“My parents are both Alphas.”

“Ok? Cool?” Bokuto canted his head further to the side.

“I’m a Beta.”

“Uh huh,” Bokuto nodded, confusion still clear in his eyes. “Is that a bad thing or something?” he finally worked out, brows furrowing.

“To them it is.”

“Why?” Bokuto blurted out.

Akaashi stared at him in silence. Bokuto couldn’t be _that_ naïve could he?

“Oh shit! Did I say something stupid again?” Bokuto tugged at his hair. “Ah, Konoha warned me to watch what I said. He said I was… what was that word he used again? Something to do with being dense. Sorry. I just don’t get it. Like this whole thing about the new rules for the tournaments. So what if you’re Beta, or if I’m Alpha? And why does it matter that Kuroo’s teammate is Omega? We all just wanna to play volleyball! But maybe that’s why Komi and Konoha, even Kuroo sometimes, are always telling me I’m simple-minded. Sorry, I just don’t get it,” Bokuto mumbled again.

Akaashi smiled slightly, a barely noticeable upturn of his lips. “Your way of thinking is simple, Bokuto-san, naïve even. But I wish there were more people like you in this world.”

Bokuto grinned, his mood immediately improving. “Yeah?”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi asked. “This Kuroo person you keep talking about, he’s from Nekoma?”

“Yup!” Bokuto grinned. “Kuroo Tetsurou. He’s my best bud!”

“Does he happen to be tall with weird bed-hair? Tends to taunt other players a lot?”

“Yeah! That’s him! He’s calls himself the ‘Master of Provocation’. Why, have you met him?”

‘ _Ah, so Kuroo is the substitute middle-blocker I saw. The one that defended the libero, Yaku_.’ Akaashi confirmed to himself. He had strongly suspected it when Bokuto and the other second-years had first mentioned him, but now he knew for sure.

“No, I haven’t met him,” Akaashi clarified. “I saw him play once during the match between Nekoma and Suzumeoka.”

“Oh, the one with the fight? Yeah, I missed watching that game because we were in warm-ups for our game when theirs started. Hey!” Bokuto suddenly exclaimed. “Didja watch our game too?”

Akaashi nodded. “Yes, I missed the first 15 minutes because of the fight but I did watch your game too.”

“Yeah?” Bokuto beamed at him. “Didja see my spikes? They were awesome right!? I was really in top form that game!”

Akaashi smiled. “Yes, Bokuto-san, your spikes were amazing.” 

Bokuto grinned, his cheerfulness rolling off him in waves.

A thought occurred to Akaashi and he glanced over his shoulder at the gym in the distance. Through the windows he could see that all the lights had been turned off. 

“Bokuto-san,” he called for the ace’s attention. “It looks like the gym isn’t being used right now.”

The smile he received in answer was blinding.

* * *

The next Sunday Akaashi sat at the entryway, pulling on his shoes. He was about to leave, checking one last time to make sure he had his wallet and phone when his father appeared in the entry hallway.

“Are you heading out Keiiji?”

“Yes father, I made plans to go to Shibuya with a teammate to pick out new volleyball shoes.”

“I see. Did your mother give you money for the new shoes?”

Akaashi shook his head. “I saved up my allowance.”

Akaashi’s father signed heavily. “You know that you can ask us for these things right?”

Akaashi didn’t answer his father.

“Here,” Akaashi’s father pulled out his wallet and held out two 5,000 yen bills.

“I don’t need it. I saved up enough,” Akaashi refused stubbornly.

“Take it. Buy yourself something you want, treat yourself and your friend to dinner. I can let your mother know that you won’t be home for dinner.” 

Akaashi considered for a moment before carefully accepting the two bills. “Thank you.”

His father gave him a tight-lipped smile and waved him out the door.

Akaashi walked towards the station closest to his parents’ house. He had suggested to Bokuto that they meet at Shibuya station, but the ace had insisted that they meet up at the station by their school and ride together on the Meguro line before connecting line to the Yamanote line that would eventually take them to Shibuya. The ace claimed that they’d lose valuable time trying to find each other in the crowds at Shibuya station but Akaashi knew that with Bokuto’s height and odd-coloured hair, he’d be able to find him any crowd, no matter how large. Even so, he relented.

When Akaashi’s train pulled into the station by the school 20 minutes later, Bokuto was already waiting at the platform and waving excitedly when he spotted the setter. Unsurprisingly he was dressed in a pair joggers and a T-shirt with some English gibberish written on the front. Akaashi was dressed similarly in joggers, a plain T-shirt and a thin windbreaker, having been told by the ace to dress ‘in sports stuff’ for their trip to the sports store.

“Hey, hey hey!” He boomed.

“Hello Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replied at a much lower volume. “Thank you for agreeing to come with me today.”

“You bet!” Bokuto grinned.

The two made their way over to the next platform for the Meguro line, the train arriving within minutes. Being a Sunday, the train was nearly empty and Akaashi and Bokuto had a railcar to themselves. They sat next to each other in companionable silence as the train pulled out of the station, Bokuto staring out the window as the train pulled alongside the Meguro river, speeding towards Meguro station where they would transfer to the Yamanote line.

“Have you picked out which shoes you wanna try out?”

Akaashi nodded, pulling out his phone to show the ace the list he had compiled. Akaashi had spent the last few weeks reading reviews, comparing the specifications and making an extensive list of pros and cons for each shoe.

“Oh wow,” Bokuto scrolled through the list. “You did a lot of research. But what matters most is the feel of the shoes.”

“The feel of the shoes?” Akaashi questioned the ace.

“You’ll see,” Bokuto grinned.

They transferred to the Yamanote Line, the popular train being more crowded than their previous train. When they arrived at Shibuya, Bokuto wove through the crowds with ease, making a bee-line across the Scramble Kousaten and down one of the many side-streets until they reached the 5-story sports store. With a grin he guided Akaashi to the 4th floor volleyball section and to the wall of volleyball court shoes.

To Akaashi’s surprise, Bokuto quickly scanned the wall and grabbed all the display models for the shoes Akaashi had included in his list. The ace had evidently memorized the list of shoes Akaashi was interested in.

“Excuse me!” Bokuto flagged down an employee. “Can you bring us these in a size…” Bokuto quirked an eyebrow at the setter.

“29 cm,” Akaashi answered.

The employee soon returned with a stack of six shoe boxes.

“You’re not wearing your volleyball socks!” Bokuto exclaimed when Akaashi removed his shoes, as if Akaashi had committed a cardinal sin.

Akaashi looked down at his feet. He was wearing a pair of plain cotton socks. Granted they were shorter and lacked the slight padding of his volleyball socks, but he didn’t understand what had Bokuto so worked up.

“Ah, excuse me again!” Bokuto called out to the same employee.

As if reading his mind, the employee reappeared with two pairs of socks. “Mizuno or Nike?”

“You usually wear the Nike ones right?” Bokuto grabbed both pairs from the employee.

Akaashi nodded wordlessly pulled on the Nike socks at his upperclassman’s urging. He soon understood why the ace had told him to wear ‘sports stuff’ as Bokuto insisted that he run laps around the floor. It wasn’t long before Bokuto was poking at his toes, gauging the fit of the shoes, tightening and loosening the laces.

Dissatisfied with their first six choices, Bokuto continued to pull shoes off the display shelf, the amiable employee running back and forth with boxes of shoes, bringing new ones and taking back the ones the ace had firmly rejected.

Akaashi guessed that he had tried on over fifteen pairs of shoes when they had finally narrowed their choices down to four pairs of shoes. To Akaashi’s surprise, Bokuto grabbed a volleyball from a nearby bin.

“Let’s try some tosses!”

“Here?” Akaashi looked towards the amicable store employee. Sometime around the eight or ninth pair of shoes Akaashi had tried on, Bokuto and the employee had become fast friends, bantering over everything from the newest models of court shoes to the local professional teams. The employee smiled at the two high schoolers and gestured at them to proceed.

“By all means. Just be careful of the displays please,” the employee smiled, removing the boxes of rejected shoes. 

“You’re good, just toss them to me!” Bokuto lightly threw the ball towards Akaashi.

Akaashi obliged, taking care to send a light toss back to the ace who caught the ball easily.

“No, no, no!” Bokuto grumbled. “Toss like you mean it! Do the jump tosses you’ve been practicing!”

Bokuto made him keep repeating his jump tosses, his tosses still light but with more intention than his first hesitant toss. On the third pair of his remaining shoe choices, a pair of Mizuno Wave Lightning, it suddenly clicked.

“I think these are the ones,” Akaashi announced.

“Yeah?” Bokuto grinned. “Let’s try one last thing.” He held out the Mizuno socks. “Try them with these socks.”

Skeptical, Akaashi complied. It didn’t feel that different. And then Bokuto threw the ball to him to toss. He leapt up and tossed, landing lightly on his feet. _Oh_.

Bokuto’s grin stretched wider as he dropped the volleyball back into the sales bin.

“I think we found them!” the ace grinned to employee, raising his hands up in the air. “Up high!” he laughed as the employee raised his own hands, slapping the ace’s hands.

“They’ll match our uniform too,” Bokuto grinned at the white and gold shoes in Akaashi’s hands.

“I’ll box these up for you and will be waiting for you at check-out,” the employee stated as he collected the shoes from the setter. “Would you like to purchase some Mizuno socks as well? We sell them in packs of three and six.”

“Yes, a pack of six please,” Akaashi nodded. “Thank you for all of your help.”

“You’re very welcome!” The cheerful employee bowed, rushing off to prepare Akaashi’s purchases.

“Hey Akaashi, whadya think?” Bokuto had wandered off to the clothing section and was holding up a pair of hideously garish T-shirts with bizarre slogans splash across the fabric. Oddly, they suited him.

“I think they suit you Bokuto-san,” Akaashi stifled a laugh.

Bokuto nodded in satisfaction, heading towards the cashier section with Akaashi, T-shirts firmly grasped in hand. 

Akaashi finished paying for his shoes and socks and waited for Bokuto, gazing at the sports posters on the wall. There was an advertisement for the upcoming Kanto Regional High Tournament.

“We’re playing in that tournament at the end of next month,” Bokuto appeared next to Akaashi, plastic shopping bag in hand.

“You will be,” Akaashi replied. “I don’t think I’ll be playing in any of our official matches yet.”

“Why not?” Bokuto asked carelessly. “You’re a better setter than Tsukamoto.” 

Akaashi shook his head. “Bokuto-san, you’re biased because I toss to you more than he does. Plus, it’s not that simple. Tsukamoto is a third-year and has more experience in official matches than me.” _‘And he’s an Alpha_ ,’ Akaashi thought to himself. _‘The other third-years won’t take it well if a Beta takes the starting position of an Alpha._ ’

“I don’t know why it can’t be simple,” Bokuto grumbled. “You’re the better player, it’s as easy as that.”

 _‘Ah, how nice it would be to live in his world, where everything is so straight-forward,’_ Akaashi thought wistfully to himself.

“Hey, are you hungry?” Bokuto changed the topic. “I know you usually say no but we can go someplace cheap like Moss Burger?” 

Akaashi thought back to his conversation with his father earlier that day and to the two 5,000 yen bills in his wallet. He waffled between saving the money for future purchases and an idea that had been kicking around in his head since earlier in the day when he had remembered one of his previous conversations with the ace.

“Actually Bokuto-san, my father gave me some extra allowance today and said I should treat you to dinner. Would you like to get some yakiniku?”

The ace lit up at the suggestion. “Really?” Bokuto asked eagerly. “Oh man, this is so awesome! There’s a place nearby that I’ve been wanting to try.” The ace scrolled excitedly through his phone. “Ah, there it is!”

Before Akaashi could react Bokuto had grabbed his elbow and was dragging him through the streets of Shibuya at a dizzying pace. Knowing that couldn’t match the ace’s strength, Akaashi allowed himself to be pulled along, the plastic bag of his purchases bumping against his legs as they ran.

In his rush, Bokuto almost bowled over the restaurant’s hostess as she stood outside the restaurant at a podium emblazoned with the restaurant’s logo and menu. The young woman laughed at ace’s impatience and led them up the stairs to the second floor and to a small booth with a charcoal grill inlaid into the table.

Bokuto was practically vibrating with excitement as he examined the menu.

A waitress arrived with two glasses of water, pad of paper in hand, ready to take their order.

Bokuto was the first to order. “The beef and horumon set, extra large!”

“Very good sir, and you?” the waitress looked to the setter.

“I’ll have beef and horumon set as well, regular size. And a side set of vegetables as well please.”

The waitress smiled, retreating with their menus. It was still early so the restaurant was relatively empty.

“Oh man, I’m so excited!” Bokuto grinned across the table at Akaashi, bouncing in his seat. “I haven’t had yakiniku since I went out with Kuroo and his friend Kenma at the end of last year. And Kuroo kept insisting that we order fish.” 

“How do you know Kuroo?” Akaashi asked curiously. “It seems like you and the other second-years are quite familiar with Nekoma’s team.”

“Oh, we know them from the training camps! Nekoma is part of the Fukurodani Academy Group! Shinzen and Ubugawa are the other two schools that are part of the Group.”

Akaashi frowned in confusion. “Training camps?”

“Yeah! You didn’t know? We each take turns hosting a week-long training camp where we run drills and play practice matches. And there’s usually a penalty for the losing team of each match. The hosting team gets to decide the penalty. And after the practice matches, a bunch of us from the different teams get together for extra practice. Well, it’s mostly Kuroo and me plus some of his teammates.”

“Oh.” Akaashi had no idea.

“Yup, but we already missed the first training camp. Nekoma was supposed to host it during Golden Week two weeks ago but it got cancelled before the school year started. Kuroo finally texted me why last night. Something about another team trying to get them suspended for the entire year!”

“Suzumeoka?”

Bokuto nodded. “Yeah, those guys. Anyways, Kuroo said it finally got worked out last week. Nekoma’s registered for this year’s Summer Interhigh. The Kanto Regionals too, I think. And he said that they’re gonna try and reschedule their training camp for later this year.”

 _‘It got resolved right around the same time Coach Yamiji announced the Association’s new rules,_ ’ Akaashi thought with disgust. _‘Suzumeoka must have used Nekoma’s potential suspension as a bargaining chip.’_

“Oh yeah,” Bokuto continued on blithely. “We’re hosting in July. You’ll meet Kuroo then! Oh, and his friend Kenma too. He’s a setter and first-year like you! Him and Kuroo have been playing together since middle school. Or maybe before that? Anyways, Kuroo’s really excited that Kenma’s joined Nekoma this year.” 

Akaashi nodded. He had noticed that Bokuto had a tendency to ramble when he was excited. He’d also concluded that it was often better not to interject too often or he’d risk sending Bokuto off on another rambling tangent.

A waiter arrived with plates, chopsticks and a variety of sauces in dipping bowls. The waiter carefully lit the charcoal grill and turned on the vent above their table.

“Your order will be arriving shortly. I hope you enjoy your meal,” he bowed before leaving.

“Thanks!” Bokuto grinned before continuing on as though he hadn’t been interrupted. “I guess we’ll meet that libero too! What didya say his name was? Yaku? I should ask Kuroo about him! Is he really that good?”

Akaashi nodded. “Yes, he made two incredible saves in a row, one of them a direct hit. And considering that Nekoma prioritizes blocking and floor defence, he would have to be exceptional to earn the position of libero.”

“Oya oya? You figured out their strategy from watching just one game?” Bokuto grinned approvingly at the setter. “I’m so pumped to play them this year! Especially if Yaku is as good as you say!”

Akaashi felt slightly perturbed by the glint in Bokuto’s eye. “Why?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s exciting to play against strong opponents! When you can give your 120%!”

Their order arrived along with a set of tongs for each of them and Bokuto’s attention was quickly transfixed with his food.

Akaashi gaped internally when he noticed that Bokuto was literally drooling as he waited for his meat to grill, a continuous dribble of saliva along the corner of his mouth that he wiped away periodically with the back of his hand.

 _‘Saying that yakiniku is his favourite food is an understatement_ ,’ Akaashi thought as the ace gobbled up the meat as soon as it finished cooking, not even waiting for it to cool. He was surprised that the second-year didn’t choke at the rate he was inhaling his food.

Smiling internally, Akaashi ate his meal at a more sedate pace, insisting that the ace eat some of the vegetables and even offering him some slices of meat from his plate. Surprisingly, Bokuto had refused the meat – even though Akaashi could tell that it physically pained him to do so – insisting that Akaashi needed it to put on muscle.

They finished their dinner in relative silence and when the bill arrived, Bokuto insisted on paying for his own share, despite Akaashi’s protests.

“I don’t wanna be beholden,” the ace winked. “Plus, this way, you can save your money for us to go get yakiniku again! Or maybe get some more volleyball stuff!”

Akaashi finally relented after the Bokuto had made him promise that they would go out for yakiniku at Bokuto’s favourite place after one of their Saturday practices next month.

They slowly made their way back towards Shibuya station, the surrounding stores having turned on their neon signs for the evening. Shibuya station was far more crowded than it had been earlier that day. When they reached the Scramble Kousaten, Bokuto grabbed the sleeve of Akaashi’s windbreaker as they navigated their way through the station so they wouldn’t be separated.

It seemed like everyone else in the vicinity had also decided that it was time to head home as Bokuto and Akaashi squeezed themselves into the last car of the Yamonote line. Akaashi clutched his purchases to his chest as he stood jammed on the train next to Bokuto, concentrating on keeping his balance as the train lurched around a curve. Much to his chagrin, when the train stopped at Ebisu, he was pushed into the taller ace by the shuffling passengers, discovering that the ace was indeed an immovable block of muscle.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s ok,” Bokuto pulled Akaashi behind him, away from the other passengers.

Fortunately, Meguro was the next stop and Akaashi alighted from the train with a sign of relief. The two quickly made their way to the Meguro line platform which fortunately was less crowded. Akaashi stared out the window as the train left the station, watching as they sped past the river, the walkway lights illuminating the cherry trees lining the river. Less than two months ago, when he had first enrolled in Fukurodani Academy those trees had been heavy with blossoms. Akaashi idly contemplated that time had passed both quickly and slowly since then. 

“Hey, our stop is next,” Bokuto interrupted his reverie.

The two alighted at the station by their school.

“Thank you for accompanying me today Bokuto-san,” Akaashi thanked the ace politely.

“No problem!” the upperclassman grinned easily. “Any day I get to eat yakiniku is an awesome day! Ah, before you go,” the ace reached into his bag before extending his arm towards Akaashi.

Dangling from the ace’s extended fingers were two identical keychains with miniature blue and yellow volleyballs, identical the balls they used for practice. 

“I got one for you too! You can put it on your school bag since it looks so lonely!”

“Eh?” Akaashi struggled to follow the ace’s train of thought. Now that he thought about it, Bokuto sported an odd collection of keychains on his school bag, everything from little plushies to chibi pins. “Ah, but…” Akaashi began to refuse.

“You’re gonna say you can’t accept because you don’t want to be beholden, right!? Well I thought about it all afternoon and I’ve come up with a counter argument!” the ace waved his arms enthusiastically before pointing at Akaashi. “They were part of a two for one promotion! I wanted one for myself and they gave me the second one for free! Since it was free, you won’t owe me anything! You can’t argue with that, right?!”

 _‘The store probably priced the keychains higher to trick customers into thinking they were getting a deal when in reality they’re paying the same price as they would for two…’_ Akaashi thought to himself. But he didn’t have the heart to turn the ace down. Not when he was looking at him so earnestly, proud of the counter-argument he had crafted. 

“Ah, sure,” he replied, solemnly accepting one of the keychains. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re gonna put it on your school bag, right!?” the ace insisted.

“Yes, Bokuto-san.”

“Good! See you tomorrow at practice! And afterwards we’ll practice my spikes and your jump tosses, K?”

“Ah, sure.”

Bokuto grinned and waved before running off to his platform, his energy endless.

Akaashi smiled to himself. Sometime in the past week, Bokuto had stopped asking the setter to join him for extra practice and had started declaring that they would practice together, as if it were a matter of fact.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... super long chapter. But I just didn't have the heart to cut any of it out. Update came faster than planned since this chapter was easier to write than others. I still struggle with dialogue though. It's tough not having all the characters sound the same. 
> 
> Flow of the story is still slow. I guess this is going to be a slow, slow, SLOW burn kind of story. I wanted to have a fun day for the two boys though and hopefully some of you have noticed the little easter eggs I've thrown in here and there. (Fun fact, there's official artwork that shows both Bokuto and Akaashi with matching key chains on their bags). 
> 
> If my writing continues as planned, there should be a big development next chapter. 
> 
> I'm still a long ways from the story I want to tell about what happens after the time skip. If only there were was a machine out there that could just put the story floating around in my head into words. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading. Thanks for the comments and kudos. I love reading all your comments and appreciate feedback on the story!


	6. 19.5 km

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions with the third-years boil over when Bokuto presses the fire alarm button. 
> 
> Akaashi witnesses his first full blown 'dejected emo mode' Bokuto.

It was quiet and dark when Akaashi returned to his parents’ house. The family car wasn’t in the driveway, leading Akaashi to believe that his father had gone out again, likely for drinks with his colleagues or acquaintances. Akaashi could see a faint line of light from under his mother’s bedroom, likely from a bed-side lamp.

He quietly entered his room, dropping his purchases onto his desk chair. Turning on his desk lamp, he noticed an envelope and note on his desk, the note in his father’s heavy handwriting.

_Keiiji, I’m glad you made a friend._

Akaashi opened the envelope and noticed that his father had increased his weekly allowance. He pulled a few bills, tucked them into his wallet before stashing the envelope into his desk drawer. He turned to his purchases next, carefully unboxing his new shoes and placing them in his gym bag, along with a pair of his newly purchased socks. As he folded up his shopping bag, something dropped to the floor with a soft clink.

Akaashi bent down and retrieved the volleyball keychain. He considered it carefully for a moment, running his fingers over the miniature yellow and blue ball before clipping it onto the zipper of his school bag.

* * *

Akaashi sat in the shade of a large tree next to gym with Konoha, Komi and Sarukui, taking a long drink from the water bottle in his hands. The club members had just finished their warm up stretches and laps around the soccer field. Fukurodani’s other gym was under repairs again so the volleyball club was waiting for the basketball club to wrap up its practice.

“Ugh, I’m beat,” Konoha complained from next to him as he lay stretched out in the grass.

“From just 5 laps? Look at Bokuto, he’s still going. He’s on his what, 10th lap now?” Komi teased, seated on the other side of Konoha.

“Shut up! I just don’t like running,” the dirty-blonde second-year grumbled, “Besides, I don’t see you keeping up with Bokuto either.”

“Our ace is superhuman,” Sarukui grinned from where he stood, leaning against the tree. “Oh, looks like he’s decided to stop showing us up,” the second-year nodded towards Bokuto’s approaching form.

Akaashi noticed the annoyed glare Tsukamoto threw Bokuto’s way as the ace passed the third-years where they sat together under a different tree. The first-years, save for Akaashi, had also grouped off together to sit next to the exterior wall of the gym.

“Good work,” Komi greeted the ace as he reached them, holding out a water bottle.

“Thanks!” Bokuto grinned and dropped down next to Akaashi, guzzling down the contents of the water bottle.

‘ _He doesn’t look like he just ran 10 laps_ ,’ Akaashi noted with a small amount of envy.

“What are Washio and the Captain talking about?” Komi piped up, jerking head towards the tallest second-year and the stocky captain where they stood apart from the rest of the club in the shadow of the gym, a paper bag hanging from the captain’s fingers.

Konoha cracked open his eyes and glanced at the two club-members before closing them again and folding his arms behind his head, settling himself more comfortably in his prone position on the ground. “Official club stuff probably. Captain relies on Washio more than he does Okano.”

Akaashi had noticed that Washio was close with the third-year captain. He also noticed an odd disconnect between the captain and his middle-blocker vice-captain. “Doesn’t that upset Okano-senpai? He is vice-captain and middle-blocker after all.”

Sarukui glanced over to where Okano and Tsukamoto sat next to each other, the third-year setter’s sunken gaze flicking over their way every now and then as they talked. “Don’t think so,” the wing spiker commented. “Seems like Okano’s happy to hold the title of Vice-Captain but let Washio do all the work.”

“I wanna be Captain next year,” Bokuto suddenly spoke up.

Konoha sat up. “What? Since when?”

“Yesterday!” Bokuto answered honestly.

Sarukui chucked from behind them. “And what happened yesterday?”

“Kuroo said he wanted to be captain of his team next year.”

“And Kuroo wants to become captain of Nekoma because…?” Konoha prompted.

“Uh,” Bokuto scrunched up his face in thought. “Something about.. Oh yeah, he wants to make a team where the blood cells carry oxygen to the brain!” 

Komi snickered. “I think you got our bio homework mixed up with why Kuroo wants to be captain.”

“No!” Bokuto denied adamantly. “That’s what he said! He sounded so cool too!”

“And so you want to carry oxygen to the brain too? Wait, in this scenario, are you the brain!?” Konoha asked, aghast.

Komi rolled on the ground laughing when he heard this.

“Uh… I dunno? Maybe?” Bokuto scratched his head. “What? Ya don’t think I could be captain?” Bokuto grumbled to his fellow second-year. “Akaashi!!” Bokuto turned to the first-year, eyes pleading. “You think I can be captain right?”

“I’m not sure,” Akaashi replied seriously, ignoring Bokuto’s squawk of mock-outrage. “Why do _you_ want to be captain, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto’s expression brightened, his eyes wide and gleaming with excitement. “’Cause captains are cool! They get to lead the teams on the court, the greet the other captains and refs, call the coin tosses and have special captain’s uniforms too!”

 _‘Ah, so he wants to be the centre of attention,’_ Akaashi thought to himself, not entirely surprised.

Konoha’s lips turned up in a smirk and he flopped back down, arm covering his eyes. “Gotcha. _Captain Bokuto._ ”

“Captain Bokuto?” Washio stood in front of the second-years, paper bag in hand.

“Bokuto wants to be captain next year,” Sarukui clarified.

“I see,” Washio commented neutrally.

“What’s in the bag?” Komi piped up, eyes fixed on the bag.

The middle-blocker reached into the bag and pulled out two bottles, tossing one to Sarukui and the other to Bokuto. “Masking sprays for our matches. The managers will keep extras on hand but don’t make a habit of losing them,” Washio directed the last part at Bokuto.

“Can I see?” Komi, reached his hand towards Sarukui who indulged him by passing him the capped bottle.

The libero popped off the lid and spritzed the air, sniffing intently. “It doesn’t smell like anything? Does it smell different to you guys?”

“It’s a neutral scent, it’s not supposed to,” Washio replied.

“Huh,” Komi shrugged, passing the bottle back to his friend. “That’s boring. Hey, did you guys see those ads for those food-themed sprays? Pizza, Bacon, even Yakiniku! Wouldn’t it be funny to wear one of those?”

“Yakiniku?” That got Bokuto’s attention.

“No,” Washio replied blandly, “those aren’t on the approved list. They’re just novelty items and not as effective anyways.”

“Where can you get them?” Bokuto persisted.

“That would be a bad idea Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interjected. “You wouldn’t be able to stop drooling if you wore one of those.”

The second-years burst into laughter. Even the usually stoic Washio quirked a smile. “That’s so true!” Komi laughed, exaggeratedly wiping away fake tears. 

“Gym’s clear, let’s get set-up and start practice,” the stocky Kawamura called where he stood, handing masking sprays to the first-years.

“Alright, let’s go!” Bokuto jumped to his feet and rushed into the gym.

The other second-years followed at a more sedate pace, Konoha still grumbling about having had to run laps. Akaashi stumbled slightly when someone bumped into his shoulder, hard. He looked up to meet the scowling glare of Tsukamoto. He refused to cower, returning the third-year’s glare with a cool, unwavering stare of his own.

“My apologies Tsukamoto-senpai, I didn’t realize I was in your way.”

* * *

_Much has changed in the landscape of Omega rights since the proclamation of the Omega Protection Act eight, now almost nine years ago, the key being the publication bans on the release information on Omegas who are the victims of sub-gender motivated crimes. There have been other changes geared towards protecting Omegas and addressing crimes against Omegas. For example, scent marking without consent became an offence punishable by fines and community service. This caused quite a bit of an uproar in some Alpha communities, calling scent marking a harmless form of expressing affection, much like a hug or a kiss, often exchanged between family members, close friends and partners. Omega lobbyists, on the other hand have pointed out that unwanted hugs or kisses are also forms of assault. And of course, modern-day scent marking when the receiving party consents, much like a kiss or a hug, is an acceptable form of expressing affection. So why were Omega lobbyist groups so adamant on categorization non-consensual marking as an assault? The answer is that, historically, scent-marking was predominantly used by as a form of ownership claim._

_Now I’m sure that you’re all familiar with the most severe form of marking historically utilized by Alphas, that being the mutilation of Omega scent glands, often referred to as “bonding”. In comparison to scent marking, where the Alpha rubs their scent, usually onto the face or neck area of the other person, the practice of “bonding” cannot, in my opinion, be categorized as an act of affection. The mutilation of scent glands originated some time after the events of Calamitas II when Omegas began to be regarded more as property than as individuals with individual rights. Alphas would mutilate the scent glands of Omegas they laid ‘claim’ over, destroying an Omega’s ability to release pheromones that would attract other Alphas. This act was historically characterized as an act to protect Omegas, its nefarious purpose concealed under the façade_ of _“bonding”. In reality, it was and is a barbaric practice that affects an Omega’s ability to regulate their hormones and pheromones, causing them to become sickly and dependant on others. In rare cases it also led to an Omega’s death. This mutilation of an Omega’s scent glands was often implemented by way of the Alpha biting the Omega’s scent glands, which often included short-term complications of blood loss and infection._

_Of course, the practice of “bonding” has been outlawed for over 30 years, however, there are those who still perform the practice. In many cases, it is an assault perpetrated on an unwilling victim, while in other instances it is practiced in secret and consented to by the Omega. In many of these instances, it is performed as part of a religious ceremony or belief system, often found in Alpha-centric organizations. Even more troubling, however, is that in recent years, we have seen increasing cases of “bonding” as a result of the romanticized protrayal of “bonding” found in literature, television and film. Many Omega advocacy organizations have pushed to ban the romanticization of “bonding” in all forms of media, however, others say that it is censorship of the arts and freedom of speech, ideas and religion._

_Now for your assignment, I want you to write a 5-page paper either for or against the censorship of romanticized “bonding” in media. As part of your paper you will need to-_

The blaring of the emergency alarm pierced the air during Akaashi’s last class of the day.

Akaashi’s cultural studies teacher looked up surprised from where he stood at the front of the class, open textbook in hand.

‘ _Not a scheduled drill,_ ’ Akaashi concluded.

Akaashi’s class representative stood up from his seat at the front of the class and grabbed the classroom’s banner from where it rested next to the door.

“Listen up Class 1-B!” the class rep announced. “Evacuation protocol, follow me to Zone A.” 

He followed his classmates as they filed down the stairs and into the large open courtyard in front of the school, each class lining up in a similarly orderly fashion with each class representative holding the banner for the class at the head of each line.

Several rows over, he caught sight of Konoha and Komi, the former looking exasperated. Sarukui stood several spots in front of them, visibly fighting back a smile. Three more rows over, in a different class, Washio stood at the head of his row, holding the banner for Class 2-D and looking pensive. Bokuto was nowhere to be seen. Akaashi had a sinking feeling.

Komi caught sight of Akaashi looking their way and tugged on Konoha’s sleeve to get his attention, nodding his head in the first-year’s direction.

Akaashi raised his eyebrows in silent question.

Konoha shrugged helplessly, immediately understanding the first-year’s question and mouthing an answer.

 _‘Bokuto’_.

* * *

When Akaashi walked into the club room forty minutes later, the second-years had already assembled. Normally Akaashi would have arrived before the second-years but he had been delayed by his cultural studies teacher who had asked him to carry a box of teaching materials back to the staff room. On his way to the staff room, Akaashi had observed a maintenance worker resetting the emergency alarm system. The school’s vice-principal watched the maintenance workers’ progress, cell phone pushed up against his ear, his body bowing out of habit as he profusely apologized to whoever was on the other side of the call. 

“Tell me again why you pushed the fire alarm button?” Konoha stood over the ace where he sat shamefacedly on the bench, still in his school uniform. The others had already changed into their practice uniforms.

“It said press firmly.”

“Yes Bokuto, _in case of emergency_ , ‘press firmly in case of emergency!’” Konoha pinched the bridge of his nose. “That still doesn’t explain why you pushed the emergency button!”

“I had drop off my make-up work for math class and I saw the emergency button by the teachers’ room,” Bokuto began sheepishly, “And it said ‘ _press firmly-_ ”

“In case of emergency!” Konoha snapped again.

“Hey now,” Komi interjected, placing a placating hand on Konoha’s shoulder, “Let him finish. I’m sure Bokuto has a _really_ good reason for pressing the emergency button.” The libero was fighting hard to supress his laughter.

“Well, I just wondered, how firm was ‘firmly’. So, I pushed the button to find out. You know, in case there was a real emergency, so I would know _how_ firmly to push the button.”

Komi and Sarukui burst into peals of laughter, clutching at their sides.

Konoha looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh, cry or get mad. He settled for snapping at the laughing second-years. “Shut up you two! This is serious! Bokuto could get suspended for this!”

“Konoha’s right,” Washio finally spoke up. “Not only could Bokuto get suspended, he could also lose his club privileges. And coach and Kawamura-senpai aren’t here today. They’ve both been called away to a meeting about the Kanto Regional High Tournament.”

“Oh, that might be bad.” Sarukui stopped laughing although his mouth remained upturned in its usual manner. His eyes, however, were worried. “I think I hear the third-years coming, you two better get changed quickly and get to the gym,” Sarukui nodded towards Bokuto and Akaashi.

Mizuoka, the third-year libero, was the first of the third-years to arrive. He nodded to Washio and smirked at Bokuto. “I hear I have you to thank for classes ending early today?” he ribbed the ace good-naturedly.

Tsukamoto, Okano, Nagai and Satou were the next to arrive, chatting amongst themselves.

“Why are you guys still loitering around here? Hurry up and go set up for practice,” Tsukamoto drawled, his dark eyes taking in the room.

“Yes senpai,” Konoha replied for the second-years, sending a pointed look to Akaashi as he left the room with Sarukui, Komi and Washio. 

“Come on Bokuto-san,” Akaashi nudged the ace. “Let’s get changed and go set up,” he said, quickly shedding his school uniform and pulling on his practice clothes.

Bokuto followed suit slowly, lacking his usual energy. Akaashi rushed him along by grabbing both their gym bags and school bags and stuffing them into a locker.

“Cu~te,” Tsukamoto commented from behind them. 

“Can I help you Tsukamoto-senpai?” Akaashi asked, turning to face the third-year setter, his expression completely neutral.

“Just noticing your matching keychains,” Tsukamoto commented conversationally, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his pallid skin. “How childish.”

“I see. If that’s all, we will be taking our leave,” Akaashi inclined his head in the slightest of bows and grabbed Bokuto by the arm and pulled him out of the club room and towards the gym.

* * *

“Alright team,” Okano called the club members to order once set-up was complete. “Coach and Kawamura are at a meeting today and Ito’s off sick so it’s just us today. We’ll just do some drills today and call it a day. No practice match today since we don’t have enough members.”

Practice was relatively uneventful. Okano put in the bare minimum effort in leading practice. Shirofuku and Suzuemeda were also absent, presumably they were with Coach Yamiji and Captain Kawamura at the Kanto Regional High Tournament meeting.

Even with the vice-captain’s lack-luster leadership, Akaashi still managed to work up a sweat, having applied himself diligently to the drills.

Akaashi glanced to the other end of the court to where Bokuto was practicing blocks with the middle-blockers. Once on the court, the ace’s contrite demeanor had slowly melted away and he was back to his energetic usual self.

“That’s it for drills!” Okano called out, “Move on to cool down exercises!”

As the club members performed their cooldown stretches, the door to the gym opened and the school’s portly vice-principal entered with the school’s stern secretary in tow.

“Ah, good, you’re still here,” the portly man patted the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “Bokuto-kun, I’ve just finished speaking with your teachers as well as the principal and we’ve decided on the punishment for your little transgression earlier today.”

Bokuto stood up, facing the vice-principal, awaiting judgment. Behind him, the second-years looked on with concern, the tension clear in their bodies.

“Fortunately, you immediately admitted to your actions so we were able to immediately alert the authorities that it was a false alarm. As such the school was able to avoid incurring a penalty for your mistake. We’ve also decided that there was no ill-intent behind your actions, just some misguided curiosity, so we’ve determined that your actions do not warrant a suspension. Your punishment will be one month’s detention. Your math teacher Mr. Kanazawa has volunteered to oversee your detention, he says he says they can double as extra math-help sessions. He is willing to schedule them so that they don’t interfere with your volleyball practice.”

Bokuto grimaced at the mention of extra math help but nodded in acceptance. “Yes sir.”

Behind him, Akaashi could hear the third years whisper, “The untouchable golden boy… No favouritism my ass!”

“As for your club activities, since it is school policy that student infractions must result in some disciplinary action associated with club activities,” the vice-principal continued, dabbing his forehead again. “We thought that it would be best to allow your team to decide your punishment.”

Next to him, Konoha stiffened visibly.

“Ah, with one caveat,” the vice-principal added, “With the Kanto Regionals coming up, we can’t have Bokuto-kun suspended form club activities. Also, given that he wasn’t given a school suspension, I think it would be unfair to suspend him from club activities. Maybe some extra club chores, penalty drills or something?”

“Fuck,” Konoha whispered, “Why did he have to say that first part….”

Akaashi glanced back to where Konoha was gazing, noticing the displeasure reflected on the faces of some of the third years, most notably Tsukamoto and Nagai.

“Alright then, I’ll leave it in the hands of your capable captain and coach… err?” The portly vice-principal noticed for the first time that the volleyball club’s captain and coach were missing.

“They’re away at a meeting for the Kanto Regionals, but don’t worry, vice-captain Okano here,” Tsukamoto clapped the middle-blocker on the shoulder, fake smile plastered on his face, “is more than capable of handling this matter.”

“Ah, I see. I’ll leave it to you then Okano-kun,” The vice principal smiled wanly, dabbing at his forehead once again as he left the gym, stern-faced secretary in tow.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the gym as the door snicked shut behind the vice-principal and his trailing secretary.

“Alright then,” Okano clapped his hands together, calling everyone to attention, “break-down the nets and clean up the equipment and then we’ll hold a team meeting.”

Akaashi helped to break down the nets and put away the equipment along with the other second-years and first-years. He glanced over at the third years, Okanao, Tsukamto, Nagai and Satou who, unsurprisingly were not participating in the team clean-up and instead, were huddled in a corner, speaking in hushed tones. Mizuoka stood slightly off to the side whispering something to Washio while they folded up one of the volleyball nets before he joining the other third-years, interjecting now in then in what appeared to be protest. 

Gym sufficiently clean, the lowerclassmen all lined in front of the third-years. Okano stood at the front while Tsukamoto leaned against him, arm draped over the middle-blocker’s shoulders.

“Bokuto,” Okano called out and Bokuto stepped forward to face the vice-captain, back-straight and gaze unwavering.

“We’ve decided on your penalty. This Saturday you’re going to clean both the club room from top to bottom. Oh, the shower room too.”

Bokuto nodded, expression solemn but unphased.

“Plus 50 penalty laps around the soccer field tonight.”

“What!?” Konoha exclaimed. “You can’t be serious, senpai! That’s like… how many kilometers?”

“About 19.5km,” Akaashi answered quietly. 

“Got it,” Bokuto nodded again, moving to go retrieve his running shoes.

“Oh no, not you,” Tsukamoto drawled from Okano’s side, a grin spreading widely across his face as his sinister gaze flicked to Akaashi before moving back towards Bokuto.

“Your little sociopathic boyfriend is going to run the laps.”

Akaashi felt a shiver run down his spine at the tone of Tsukamoto’s voice.

“Huh? Who?” Bokuto asked, genuinely confused.

“Don’t play dumb Bokuto, I’m talking about your beloved little Akaashi-kun,” Tsukamoto answered in a sickly-sweet voice with a smile that didn’t match his eyes.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto’s eyes went wide. “He’s not sociopathic!” he insisted. “And why does have to run the laps, it’s my punishment!”

“Okano-senpai,” Konoha stepped forward beseechingly, “Please reconsider. That’s too much, even for Bokuto. And Akaashi’s got nothing to do with this!”

“I agree, it’s too much Okano,” Mizuoka interjected. “Like I said, just let Bokuto run the laps, but cut it down to something more reasonable like 30.”

“You were out-voted Mizuoka, stay out of this,” Okano snapped.

“Besides, Akaashi has everything to do with this,” Nagai piped up. “See, Bokuto pushing the fire alarm inconvenienced the whole school so the punishment should reflect the crime. Bokuto has to learn that his actions affect others, that others might suffer the consequences, especially his little first-year pet.”

“Look senpai, I’m really sorry, I’ll run th-” Bokuto began but he was quickly cut off.

“Should we make it 60 laps?” Tsukamoto’s eyes glinted dangerously.

“But-” Bokuto tried to argue but Akaashi silenced him by laying a hand on his arm.

“I accept the penalty. I will do it,” Akaashi stared straight ahead and met Tsukamoto’s gaze.

Bokuto swiveled to look at him. “No! You can’t!”

“I can and I will,” Akaashi replied simply as he headed to where his outdoor shoes were lined up against the wall with the others’ outdoor shoes.

“Hang on a minute Akaashi,” Konoha interjected in a whisper as he followed him. “Don’t go being a martyr, I’ll try and get a hold of coach or even captain Kawamura.”

“No,” Akaashi refused before quietly adding, “Having Kawamura-san or coach intervene will only make things worse.”

Konoha grimaced. “But still,” he tried again.

Akaashi shook his head, mind made up as he grabbed his outdoor shoes and pulled them on, carefully setting his new court shoes to the side.

“I’ll run with you!” Bokuto knelt down next to him, pulling on his own outdoor runners.

“No,” Tsukamoto objected from behind them, having followed them to the door leading directly outside. “You can’t interfere and you can’t run with him. You’re going to sit by the field and count the laps. Any attempt to interfere or cheat and we’ll know.” Tsukamoto pointed up at the security cameras pointed at the soccer field and the outdoor area. “I have a buddy on student council that has access to these feeds.”

“And you four,” Nagai addressed the remaining second-years that had followed them outside, “don’t interfere.”

Akaashi glanced back into the gym to see Okano, the vice-captain, dismissing the other first-years. He didn’t blame them for scurrying away like they did.

“But…” Bokuto looked like he was at a loss, looking tentatively between the third years, the second years and Akaashi.

“Let’s go Bokuto-san.” Akaashi headed towards the soccer field.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto tried to object again as he followed him down the hill towards the soccer field. “This isn’t fair, this isn’t right! It’s my fault so I’ll go-”

“I brought this on myself just as much as you did,” Akaashi interrupted him.

“What? How? I pressed the fire alarm!”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi paused as they reached the soccer field. “This isn’t about you pulling the fire alarm. That’s just an excuse.”

“Then what it is about?” Bokuto demanded.

“It’s about social hierarchies.”

“Social what?”

“Hierarchies. Social standings and organizational and organizational rankings.” Akaashi explained as he pulled his leg behind him and stretched out his hamstrings. Akasashi had some confidence in his ability to run long distance as he frequently went for runs by the river near his parents’ house. Even so, 19.5 kilometers would be tough for him, especially after completing volleyball practice.

“You mean like senpai and kouhai stuff?” Bokuto guessed, his posture drooping.

“Something like that.”

“Oh,” Bokuto was quiet for a while. “Does it have to do with sub-gender stuff too? About you being Beta? But you can’t help that!”

“No. But I can control my own actions.”

“What? I don’t get it.”

“Let’s just get this over with, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi finished his stretches and stepped onto the soccer field and began to run, leaving Bokuto’s protests behind him.

_One_

Akaashi jogged lightly, carefully paying attention to his pace and calculating how long it should take for him to complete the 50 laps. He didn’t want to set too fast a pace or he burn out too quickly. He also didn’t want to take too long. He quickly ran through the math in his mind, factoring in that he had just finished a 3-hour volleyball practice, albeit less intense than some of their other practices. He also thought himself lucky that he and Bokuto hadn’t started their usual extra spike practice when the third-years had decided to impose this punishment. By his estimates, he should be able to finish around the two-hour mark.

Having completed his first lap, Akaashi began a mental tally of his laps as he began to muse over the events and circumstances that had led to Bokuto’s ‘punishment’, very much aware of all the eyes that followed his progress.

_Two_

The punishment was Tsukamoto’s brain-child, no doubt. If his glee in announcing the punishment wasn’t a dead give away, his cunning was. After all, Akaashi had witnessed Tsukamoto’s sly cunning on numerous occasions, from his snide insults disguised as small talk to his tosses on the court. Despite his disdain for the third-year setter, Akaashi could begrudgingly acknowledge that Tsukamoto was a skilled setter and one who held a distinct advantage over him in terms of on-court experience.

_Five_

Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Akaashi looked up towards the gym and saw the second-years and the third-years re-enter the gym. Konoha looked like he wanted to argue again with the third-years but was being restrained by a stern-looking Washio. 

Akaashi wondered if Konoha would still contact Coach Yamiji and Captain Kawamura, despite Akaashi’s protests that it would only make things worse. Akaashi guessed that he wouldn’t do so while the third-years were around but he couldn’t be sure that Konoha wouldn’t try and intervene once the third-years had left.

He hoped that Konoha wouldn’t try and intervene. Akaashi knew that Konoha meant well but he’d run all the scenarios and concluded that reporting the actions of the third years would only result in further retaliation against Bokuto and himself.

_Nine_

Akaashi glanced to the side as he jogged past Bokuto who stood just outside the perimeter of the soccer field, his shoulders drooping and his expression blank.

Akaashi wondered at Bokuto’s reaction to the punishment. He’d expected Bokuto’s Alpha part to assert itself, responding with anger and aggression. When he had accepted the penalty, Akaashi had seen frustration with a glimmer of anger on the part of the ace but that had quickly devolved into… despondency.

Once again Bokuto defied his expectations of what Akaashi thought to be ‘normal’ Alpha behaviour.

_Eleven_

He felt eyes on him once again and he glanced up towards the gym, noticing that the lights were still on. He could see the other second-years and the third-year libero, Mizuoka, now dressed in their school uniforms, all five of them looking down at the field. The third-years were nowhere to be seen.

 _‘But that doesn’t mean that they’ve left,’_ Akaashi thought in warning to himself, staying alert and wary. 

_Thirteen_

Akaashi continued to jog, his breathing become more laboured. He glanced up at the security cameras affixed to the exterior of the gym, two of them pointed towards the field. Even though the third-years had threatened him with the security feeds, he guessed that they hadn’t actually left. Knowing Tsukamoto’s personality and his intense dislike of Akaashi, he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to witness the first-year setter’s suffering first-hand.

‘ _Not that I’ll give him that satisfaction,_ ’ Akaashi thought stubbornly.

_Nineteen_

Akaashi’s mind turned to the reason he was running: the ‘punishment’ imposed by the third-years; excepting for Mizuoka, to some extent, and Captain Kawamura and Ito who were absent. He knew Tsukamoto harboured an intense dislike for him, both from what he had observed first-hand and what Konoha had told him. He also knew that he had played some part in antagonizing the third-year setter. Akaashi had always been unfailingly polite to Tsukamoto, but he knew that the third-year setter was aware of the lack of sincerity behind Akaashi’s polite words.

_Twenty-one_

He also knew that Tsukamoto, for whatever reason, harboured an intense dislike of Bokuto. At first Akaashi thought that it was because of Bokuto’s juvenile and needy nature that Tsukamoto disliked the second-year ace. Bokuto would constantly call for tosses during practice matches, grumbling when the tosses weren’t exactly to his liking. But more recently, Coach Yamiji had rotated the practice teams so that Akaashi tossed to Bokuto more often than Tsukamoto. And yet, the third-year’s dislike of Bokuto seemed to have deepened.

_Twenty-four_

Which led Akaashi’s thoughts to the third-year wing spikers, Nagai and Satou, and the third-year middle-blocker Okano, who were also behind the punishment. They too weren’t fans of Bokuto, but they hid their disdain for the second-year ace better than Tsukamoto. Or maybe it was more that Tsukamoto didn’t bother to hide his derision for Bokuto. But what did the third-year spikers have against Bokuto?

_Twenty-seven_

Akaashi glanced over to the ace as he rounded the corner of the field. At some point, Bokuto had sat down on the ground next to the field, arms lopped loosely around his knees. He stared blankly at the ground in front of him, his shoulders drooping. Akaashi wondered if Bokuto was counting his laps like he’d been ordered to.

 _‘Probably not,’_ Akaashi thought to himself. Bokuto’s gaze was firmly fixed to the ground, as though he was unable to look up.

_Twenty-nine_

Akaashi’s inner dialogue returned to the matter of the Satou, Nagai and Okano. He remembered the first practice match where Nagai had taken perverse pleasure in dominating the first-years. Satou had been no better, but Okano was surprise revelation. Akaashi had noticed that Okano was close with the two wing-spikers and Tsukamoto but he never sensed any hostility from the middle-blocker. At least not until more recently.

_Thirty-two_

While he had not initially detected Okano’s hostility, Akaashi had noticed that Okano was only too happy to wear the mantle of vice-captain without performing any of the duties associated with being vice-captain. He, along with Satou and Nagai always put in the bare minimum effort, not unlike Akaashi’s teammates in middle-school. Even so, they were highly skilled players. 

‘ _But their skill pale in comparison to Bokuto’s innate ability and talent.’_

_Thirty-three_

And maybe that was the problem: jealousy. Jealousy of Bokuto, the ace spiker who became a regular in his first-year, even taking up the position of ace.

Akaashi knew from experience that many Alphas adhered to strict hierarchies within their sub-group. Maybe it was a reaction to the steady push for equality among the sub-genders, a way for Alphas to cling to the social hierarchies they had imposed for hundreds of years, even if it was only among their own ranks.

And Bokuto definitely didn’t conform to the Alpha hierarchy. He paid no attention to sub-genders, favouring Akaashi, a Beta, over Tsukamoto, an Alpha. And to top it off, he didn’t defer to the third-years as superior or senior Alphas.

And it was not that Bokuto did so out of disrespect or arrogance. Hierarchies just didn’t factor into his thought process.

 _‘A lot of things don’t factor into his thought process_ ,’ Akaashi thought wryly.

_Thirty-five_

Akaashi’s breath started to grow ragged and he could feel a slow burn creeping up his legs. He turned his focus back to his internal musings, hoping to block out the pain and fatigue quickly overtaking his body.

_Thirty-six_

Akaashi mused that most Alphas could generally be divided into two categories: the traditionalists who clung to the old ways and continued to believe in Alpha superiority, and, the progressives who accepted the culture shift towards equality. Obviously, there were those that didn’t quite fit into either category, such as those that accepted shift towards equality as inevitable but didn’t agree with the shift. 

By luck of the draw, it appeared that most of the third-years fell squarely into the traditionalist camp. They likely came from long-standing Alpha families that occupied positions of power in business, politics and social circles. They were no doubt raised in their own strict hierarchies that dictated that they yield to those in higher positions and where positions were awarded based on seniority and class rather than merit.

_Thirty-eight_

Akaashi guessed that many of the third-years were unhappy with Bokuto claiming the spot of ‘ace’ when ordinarily that title went to a third-year spiker. No doubt many of them felt that they had paid their ‘due’ and were irritated that Bokuto had landed the coveted position as a first-year. He wondered if last year’s third years had been as unyielding as the current third-years. Thinking back to the match he had witnessed last year, he guessed not. Although most of his focus had been on Bokuto during that match, he did notice that the setter, while looking slightly harried by Bokuto’s constant energetic calls for the ball, had worked well with the then first-year ace, sending plenty of tosses his way. He also didn’t sense any animosity or resentment from the other third-years, even though most of the crowd’s attention was focused on Bokuto.

 _‘But I only saw one game and there’s only so much I can learn from watching one game,_ ’ Akaashi checked himself.

_Thirty-nine_

Despite his extensive ruminations, Akaashi felt that he was missing some vital information. Instinct told him that the current third-years’ attitudes towards Bokuto stemmed from something deeper than jealousy or resentment over hierarchical issues. Bokuto could be overbearing at times but he was also the main reason Fukurodani was able to qualify for the Spring Nationals last year.

 _‘Do they resent him for getting them to the Nationals?’_ Akaashi mused.

But prestige was prestige. And rankings were important to Alphas. At least that was Akaashi’s experience.

So, what exactly was it?

_Forty_

The sky was quickly darkening, the brief sunset fading into grey.

Akaashi’s sucked in air through laboured pants. He guessed that he’d long passed his limits but he refused to give up.

He could feel a stinging pain in his left foot, likely a blister that had burst.

He gritted his teeth, put his head down and pushed forward.

_Forty-two_

Akaashi looked up briefly as he rounded the third corner on his forty-second lap. Bokuto sat scrunched in on himself, arms around his knees with his face buried in his knees. It was as though the ace was trying to make himself as small as possible.

_Forty-five_

Akaashi didn’t have the energy or ability to distract himself with internal musings anymore. All his energy was directed towards putting one foot in front of the other.

 _‘My physical stamina is lacking_ ,’ Akaashi berated himself. _‘Especially compared to an Alpha’._

_Forty-six_

‘ _Stop thinking!’_ Akaashi berated himself for his dark thoughts. ‘ _You can work on your stamina. You just need to exercise more, eat better, work on building your strength and stamina.’_

_Forty-seven_

The field lights clicked on during Akaashi’s forty-seventh lap. Akaashi glanced over to Bokuto again. The ace hadn’t moved.

Akaashi looked up towards the gym and noticed that the gym was now dark, the second-years nowhere to be seen.

‘ _Have they left?_ ’ Akaashi wondered to himself.

_Forty-nine_

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi called out between gasps. “Just two more laps right?” Akaashi’s vision was darkening around the edges and he was starting to doubt his own internal count.

Bokuto didn’t move or answer.

_Fifty_

Akaashi rounded the last corner, gasping for breath. His legs felt like jelly, barely able to support him as he staggered the last few steps and collapsed on the ground next to Bokuto.

Akaashi lay there for several second, his vision clouded by stars as he frantically sucked in air, desperately wishing that he could catch his breath.

As his vision finally cleared, he saw Bokuto move out of the corner of his eye. The ace had moved slightly to face Akaashi, his head still resting on his drawn knees.

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi stared in shock at the blank look in the ace’s eyes. It was as though the second-year spiker was staring right through him.

Akaashi reached out tentatively towards the ace but he was too far away. As he was trying to push himself into a seated position, Akaashi heard the sound of running footsteps. 

“Akaashi!” Konoha called as he scrambled down the small grassy slope towards them, Komi and Sarukui following closely behind him.

“Are you okay?” Konoha asked as he dropped to his knees next to the first-year. 

“Yes, I think so,” Akaashi croaked out, his throat raw but his breathing finally starting to slow. “Bokuto-san…”

“What about Bokuto?” Konoha swiveled to look at the ace. “Oh shit! Komi!”

“Yeah, just a sec,” Komi crouched down next to Akaashi, holding out a sports drink. “Here, drink this. Saru can you help Akaashi?”

Saru appeared on the other side Akaashi, pulling him up into a seated position. “Drink it slowly,” the second-year instructed as he held the bottle to Akaashi’s lips. He let go when Akaashi shakily reached up and grasped the bottle after a few gulps but continued to hover, ready to catch the bottle should Akaashi drop it.

Next to him, Konoha and Komi were poking and prodding at Bokuto, trying to get him to talk or react in any way.

“Come on man,” Komi urged, “Now’s not the time to be shutting down.”

“It’s no use,” Konoha sighed. “Help me get him to his feet. Maybe he’ll snap out of it if we get him up and moving.”

Konoha and Komi both stood up and attempted to pull Bokuto to his feet. The ace didn’t resist, but he also didn’t help. He flopped about bonelessly as Konoha and Komi attempted to get him stand, his eyes staring blankly at the ground.

“Ugh, stand up you big heavy lug!” Konoha exclaimed as he just about toppled over from the full weight of the ace falling against him.

“Grab him under his arms!” Komi instructed as he ducked under one of Bokuto’s arms and secured the ace’s weight against his shoulders. “Got him?” he asked as Konoha followed suit.

“Yeah,” Konoha grunted as he hoisted the ace’s weight onto his shoulders. “Come on Bokuto, let’s go back to the gym. Saru, you good?’

Sarukui nodded from where he crouched next to Akaashi. “I’m good. We’ll be up in a bit.”

“What’s wrong with Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked as he watched the Konoha and Komi guide Bokuto up the hill.

“Ah, he gets like that sometimes,” Sarukui shrugged, “Although this might be the worst we've ever seen him,” the spiker’s usually upturned mouth turned down into a frown of concern.

“You mean he has a tendency to go catatonic?” Akaashi asked, alarmed.

“Ah, not quite that bad. We call it his ‘dejected’ mode. It’s just particularly bad today.”

“Should we be worried?”

“Hmmm,” Sarukui pondered, the upturn returning to his lips. “He usually snaps out of it. Sometimes it takes some time. Can you get up?” the second-year asked, getting to his feet, extending his hand towards Akaashi.

“Yeah, I think so,” Akaashi accepted his senpai’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He winced as put pressure on his left foot, his ruptured blister screaming in agony.

“Let me help,” Sarukui ducked under Akaashi’s left arm to help support him. “Do you think you can walk for a bit? You need to cool down your muscles and stretch them out before they spasm.”

Akaashi nodded grimly and then began limping up the hill with Sarukui’s help. Once they reached the gym, the second-year not-so subtly encouraged him stretch out his legs and cool down by making him walk a lap around the exterior of the gym.

Once he’d walked and stretched as much as he could bear, Sarukui guided them into the gym’s side-entrance closest to the club room.

Akaashi limped into the club room with Sarukui continuing to support half his weight. He blinked in surprise at the sight that greeted him.

“Ugh, for god’s sakes Bokuto! You could at least work with me here,” Konoha grumbled as he struggled to push Bokuto’s arm through the arm of his track suit jacket.

“What about his pants?” Komi grinned as he held up Bokuto’s white and black track pants.

“Unless you’re volunteering to put them on him,” Konoha grumbled, “Just throw them in his bag with his uniform. It’s warm enough outside. Besides, he’s pretty much a human furnace, he’ll be fine.”

“Hey, Saru, Akaashi, you guys good?” Konoha looked up briefly as he wrestled Bokuto’s other arm into his track suit.

Akaashi nodded minutely.

“Hey Komi, grab Akaashi’s stuff for him, I’m taking him to the showers,” Sarukui called out to the libero.

“You got it!” Komi replied cheerfully as he grabbed Akaashi’s sports bag and walked by Konoha who had finally zipped up Bokuto’s jacket after a lot of effort and grumbling. 

“Thank you, Sarukui-san, Komi-san,” Akaashi thanked as he limped towards the bench that sat in the middle of the shower room. “I’ll be ok from here.” 

“You sure you gonna be ok?” Komi hovered awkwardly by the door with Sarukui.

“Yes, thank you,” Akaashi replied as he pulled out his towel and shower caddy.

“Ok, if you need us, just holler!” Komi waved as he followed Sarukui out of the shower room.

Akaashi stripped and hobbled into the shower, sighing in relief as the steaming water hit his aching body. When he finally turned off the hot water and shuffled back towards the bench, he noticed that his uniform had been laid on the bench and his practice clothes had been stashed away in the small laundry bag he kept in his sports duffle.

He’d just finished dressing in his school uniform and was searching for his socks when there was a soft knock on door to the shower room.

“Yes?” he replied.

The door creaked open and Sarukui poked his head in. “All done?”

“Ah, yes, thank you. I’m just looking for my socks.”

Sarukui entered the room with a slight smirk, holding up a pair of Akaashi’s socks, his other hand grasping a first aid kit. “Sorry, I took these. I didn’t want you to put your socks on before I had a chance to look at your foot.”

“My foot?” Akaashi wondered out loud before he looked down at his left foot and winced. The skin on his left foot was rubbed raw and the burst blister was oozing blood. “Oh…”

“I’ll bandage it for you if that’s ok?” The second-year knelt on the floor and opened up the first aid kit, pulling out antiseptic ointment and a roll of gauze.

“You really don’t have to Sarukui-san,” Akaashi protested, “I can do it mys-”

Akaashi was interrupted mid-sentence by the door flying open with a bang. “Hey, are you guys all done in… Ugh! Shit, that’s just nasty!” Konoha turned a shade of green from where he stood in the open doorway staring at Akaashi’s foot.

“It looks a lot worse than it actually is,” Saru replied good humouredly as he sprayed antiseptic on Akaashi’s foot and began carefully wrapping the setter’s foot. “If you’re going to throw up, aim for one of the garbage bins this time.” 

“Fuck you,” Konoha snarked without any real venom, turning so that his back was facing them. “You guys just about ready to leave?”

“Yeah, just give me another minute,” Sarukui responded as he concentrated on weaving the gauze around Akaashi’s ankle and heel in a way that would allow Akaashi to continue to flex his foot. “How’s Bokuto doing?”

“Still in emo mode. Komi’s doing one of his comedy bits right now. He thinks that his comedy skills are gonna snap Bokuto out of his funk. I’m just hopeful that Komi will bore him so much that Bokuto will snap out of it and tell him to shut up.”

“You know that Bokuto would never tell Komi to shut up,” Sarukui chuckled. “He’s sat through hours of Komi’s ‘routines’ and whenever Komi’s done, he always says: ‘ _I don’t get it, but you were super cool!’_ ”.

“Yeah, but I can still hope right?” Konoha glanced over his shoulder at Akaashi and Sarukui and turned a further shade of green. “Uh, I’m gonna go back to check on Komi and Bokuto. Meet us back in the club room.”

Sarukui chuckled at Komi’s hastily retreating figure. “Konoha’s bad with blood. One time he split a nail during a practice match and barely made it out of the gym before he threw up in the hall back there.”

“Oh…” Akaashi replied blankly, carefully stashing away that piece of information.

“Yeah, ironic since both his parents are doctors,” Sarukui smirked as he finished tying off the gauze. “How’s that? Not too tight?”

“It’s fine, thank you Sarukui-san.” Akaashi flexed his foot a few times before he pulled his socks on. “You’re really skilled at this,” he commented as he pulled his shoes on, only wincing slightly as he put weight on his left foot, Sarukui’s expert wrapping having eliminated all the friction against his blister.

“Yeah,” Sarukui smiled warmly as he packed up the first aid kit, “I have a kid brother that’s 10 years younger than me and he’s always getting into trouble so it’s something I’ve picked up over the years.”

The second-year spiker helped Akaashi collect his things as Akaashi shrugged into blazer. Akaashi studied the second-year from the corner of his eye with a newfound appreciation for the spiker’s patient and gentle demeanor. Akaashi had long-ago concluded that Sarukui was incredibly good-natured; the second-year spiker often saw the humour in things and was incredibly patient with Bokuto, always listening to the ace’s exuberant ramblings with a smile. Learning that Sarukui had a much younger brother, his personality began to make more sense: Sarukui was used to dealing with small children.

“Let’s see how our ace is doing,” Sarukui commented as he led them back towards the club room.

“And that’s the ballad of the chicken that crossed the road!” Komi finished with a flourish just as Sarukui and Akaashi walked in.

“Ugh, that was so bad,” Konoha groaned from where he sat next Bokuto. “Right Bokuto?” Konoha nudged the ace with his elbow.

Bokuto stared impassively in front of him, not reacting as he was jostled by his teammate. Akaashi suspected that if Konoha elbowed him any harder, Bokuto would simply fall off the bench.

“He’s still in emo mode?” Sarukui asked rhetorically.

“Yeah,” Komi answered, slightly deflated. “I used all my best material and not a single reaction! My pride as a comedian is wounded!”

“Hey Bokuto, look alive!” Konoha griped, pinching Bokuto’s cheek and pulling in an effort elicit a reaction. “Oh shit!” Konoha recoiled suddenly, “I’m sorry Bokuto! I didn’t mean to pinch you that hard!”

“What?” Akaashi stepped forward to see what had Konoha so alarmed.

Akaashi swallowed a gasp when he saw the silent tears streaming down the ace’s face.

“Bokuto-san?” he approached the ace hesitantly and crouched down in front of him. “Are you… are you crying?”

A soft sniffle was his only answer.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi tried again, shifting slightly to peer up at the ace’s downturned face. “Why are you crying?”

Bokuto still refused to reply. Akaashi racked his brain, going over his memories and observations, struggling to find an answer. His mind travelled back to when Bokuto had withdrawn from him, no longer asking him to stay for extra practice because he thought that Akaashi was mad at him.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi tried once more. “I’m not mad at you.”

“… you’re not?” Bokuto answered in a small voice, finally meeting the setter’s gaze.

“No, I’m not mad at you Bokuto-san,” Akaashi held the ace’s gaze firmly. “I already told you that this isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not?”

“No, Bokuto-san. It’s not your fault,” Akaashi repeated again, hopeful that he was getting through to the ace.

“But you said it had to do with social umm… hieroglyphs? And that time before you said that I was naïve and, and… I know this happened because I wasn’t paying attention-”

Out of the corner of his eye, Akaashi saw Komi clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter at the ace’s mention of hieroglyphs.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interrupted the ace before he could travel down the rabbit hole of self-condemnation that Akaashi was all too familiar with. “Do you remember that I also said that I wished that there were more people that think the way you do?”

Bokuto nodded minutely.

“Do you think your way of thinking is wrong?”

Bokuto frowned in confusion.

“That sub-genders and seniority shouldn't matter. That what matters most is wanting to play the game. That it's all about commitment to the game. Do you think that way of thinking is wrong?”

“No,” Bokuto replied after a long moment of silence.

Akaashi allowed himself a moment of self-satisfaction before turning his mind to the next step. Bokuto had started talking but Akaashi predicted that the ace would quickly backslide if he didn’t switch the ace’s focus to something more positive.

“You want to be captain next year, right Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto nodded, a little more vigorously this time.

“Then do your best to become captain, Bokuto-san. Lead us by example. Make us a team that doesn’t waste time with petty rivalries but focuses on the game. Do what you think is fair, shape us into the kind of team you think we should be.” 

Bokuto stared unblinkingly at Akaashi, a burning intensity in his eyes.

“Uh… Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked uneasily, the ace’s intense stare unnerving him.

Without warning Bokuto dropped from the bench and onto his knees, and Akaashi was being enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. Akaashi awkwardly patted the ace on the back, unaccustomed to tactile gestures and unsure on how to respond.

And then he felt it. Just as he was about to tell the ace to let him go, that he couldn’t breathe, he felt Bokuto rub his tear-marked cheek against his.

 _‘He didn’t, did he?’_ Akaashi wondered to himself in disbelief, his mind running frantically like a hamster in a wheel, spinning endlessly but going nowhere.

He glanced up over Bokuto’s shoulder to meet Konoha’s panicked gaze.

 _‘He did_ ,’ Akaashi’s mind finally confirmed.

“Bokuto, Akaashi’s turning blue in the face. I think you should let him go before you suffocate him,” Sarukui piped up, prying one of Bokuto’s arms away from where it was crushing the setter’s torso.

Once freed from Bokuto’s grasp, Akaashi reached up instinctively to wipe at his cheek. Bokuto’s eyes widened in realization at what he’d done.

“Akaashi I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I swear! I didn’t think and argh!” Bokuto tugged at his hair in frustration.

“Ah, looks like Akaashi’s finally been initiated,” Komi chuckled weakly.

“Uh, yeah,” Konoha laughed nervously, “It was only a matter of time…” Konoha locked eyes with Akaashi, the message in his eyes clear: ‘ _Please let it go this time.’_

“Welcome to the club Akaashi!” Komi continued. “Bokuto’s gotten all of us at least once.”

“Some of us more than others,” Sarukui smirked at Konoha.

“Don’t remind me,” Konoha grumbled.

Akaashi could tell that the second-years were scrambling to keep the mood light, likely to try and stop Bokuto from spiraling back into his unresponsive state.

“Come to think of it, I don’t think Bokuto’s ever gotten Washio,” Komi mused, continuing the light-hearted banter and teasing.

“Well, Washio’s big on his personal space. Plus, he’s known Bokuto since they were kids so he can likely spot Bokuto coming from a mile away,” Sarukui continued the banter.

“Yeah, that’s probably why he took off early,” Komi laughed.

Bokuto glanced around the group as they joked about him, weakly smiling, his face painted with uncertainty. “So… you’re not mad?” he finally asked, his gaze landing on Akaashi.

“Ah… not really, just a little surprised is all,” Akaashi wiped at his cheek again. “But please don’t make a habit of it.”

“That’s right,” Konoha patted Bokuto on the shoulder. “Like we talked about last year, I know it’s a quirk of yours but you gotta be careful. It can lead to some pretty serious misunderstandings.”

“Yeah, ok,” Bokuto replied obediently, earning him a friendly slap on the back from Konoha.

“Ok, now that we’ve got that all figured out, it’s late, we should all be heading home,” Konoha pulled out his phone shot a look towards Sarukui who nodded.

“Oh shit!” Konoha exclaimed, looking at his phone and making a show of being panicked.

 _‘What is he up to?’_ Akaashi thought with some suspicion. Konoha was very clearly exaggerating his actions.

“Bokuto, Komi, we gotta make a run for it! The next train leaves in 5 mins, if we don’t make that one, the yellow line switches to its night schedule where the trains only come every 20 minutes!”

“But Akaashi-” Bokuto started to protest.

“No time! You don’t wanna miss your curfew again do you?” Komi exclaimed, pushing Bokuto out the door. “Saru will walk with Akaashi to the station right?”

“Yup, no problem. The station’s on my way home,” Saru answered, waving his three teammates out the door.

“What was that about?” Akaashi asked when they could no longer hear the ruckus the three made as they left. “The trains don’t switch to their night schedule for another hour,” Akaashi looked at the time on his own phone, the time display read 8:54 pm.

“It doesn’t?” Sarukui replied blithely. “I guess Konoha will realize his mistake when they get to the station.”

Akaashi frowned. His upperclassman was being coy. It was clear that Sarukui, Komi and Konoha were all playing dumb. They all knew that the trains weren’t going to switch to the night schedule for another hour.

“Ah, you caught us,” Sarukui laughed in response to the setter's frown, raising his hands in the air in a mock gesture of defeat. “We wanted to get Bokuto home before he fell back into ‘emo mode’. Otherwise, we’d be here all night and we’d have to call Bokuto’s brother to come pick him up.”

“His brother?”

“Yeah, Bokuto lives with his older brother. The rest of their family lives in Chiba.” The second-year wing spiker pulled a packet of wipes from his bag. “Here,” he offered them to the setter. “Alcohol wipes.”

“Ah, thank you,” Akaashi accepted the packet gratefully and pulled out a wipe, thankful that he wouldn’t go home smelling like an Alpha and cause all sorts of misunderstandings. He rubbed the wipe against his cheek where Bokuto had marked him.

“Did I get it all?” With his dulled Beta senses, Akaashi had no choice but to rely on the Alpha to let him know if he’d successfully removed the marking.

“Most of it,” Sarukui replied, “You should wipe your hands too. Some of the marking transferred to your hands when you touched your face.”

“Right,” Akaashi pulled out another wipe and vigorously scrubbed his hands.

“Here,” Saruki pulled out a spray bottle from his bag and lightly sprayed Akaashi’s face, neck and shoulders. “Ok, the scent’s all gone now.”

“Is that masking spray?” Akaashi asked curiously.

“No, neutralizing spray.”

“Neutralizing spray?”

“Yeah, masking spray only works supress the scent of pheromones as they’re released. Neutralizing spray breaks down the pheromones, eliminating them altogether. It’s mainly used for when Alphas accidentally release strong pheromones. Well, I guess I can’t say that it’s always accidental.”

“I see.”

“Umm so…,” Sarukui began a little hesitatntly, “Before we leave, I just want to make sure that you’re not upset about us making light of Bokuto scent marking you. He really didn’t mean to, it’s just a quirk of his. Washio’s even said it’s something Bokuto’s done since childhood, even before he presented as Alpha. Ah, but don’t worry, he hasn’t marked anyone recently, at least not at school. I think Konoha’s yelled at him enough times that it’s stuck. But uh… yeah, Bokuto’s really not the type to ‘mark’ anyone as his property or anything like that… It’s really just a harmless gesture on his part… like a hug, well I mean I guess he did hug you too.” Sarukui scratched at his face, floundering for the right words.

“It’s fine Sarukui-san, I’m not upset. Just a little surprised is all. And I’ve known for quite some time that Bokuto-san isn’t a typical Alpha.”

Sarukui snorted. “That’s an understatement. But yeah, I think he was just really grateful you weren’t mad at him and I gotta say, your words were pretty inspiring. Plus, I don’t think I’m the only one that was impressed by how well you managed to pull Bokuto out of his ‘dejected emo mode’.”

“Does he have these moods often?” Akaashi asked curiously. Sarukui had mentioned Bokuto’s moods earlier but Akaashi had been more focused on staying conscious at the time.

“Yeah, occassionally, and nowhere near as bad today. Every now and then something will set him off and he’ll get all quiet and sulky. Sometimes we can figure out what it is, other times we have no clue. Most of the time, if you leave him alone, he’ll come out of it on his own.”

“That sounds troublesome,” Akaashi commented.

“Oh, you have no idea!” Sarukui laughed. "Ready to go?", the spiker grabbed his bag and motioned towards the door. 

"Yes," Akaashi collected his own bag, his legs still feeling shaky but stronger than before. 

As he followed his upperclassman out the clubroom, Akaashi reached up reflexively and touched his cheek. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi! So sorry for the super late update. Real life got.. real. 
> 
> I've also been tinkering with the chapter like crazy since it's a pivotal chapter in the story (at least it is in my bird brain). 
> 
> The chapter kept getting longer and longer (Akaashi is way to analytical - that's my excuse!) and I eventually had to cut it short and end it at a different part of the story than I'd initially planned. The good news is that I think this ending works out better plus part of the next chapter's already written! :P
> 
> As for Sarukui, he turned out to be a bit harder to write than I initially thought but I really wanted to flesh out his character. He always struck me as the good-natured, patient type so I tried to come with a backstory that made sense. 
> 
> And don't worry, the next chapter should be more light-hearted with more BokuAka interaction. 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you continue to read as I post more chapters. As always, I appreciate feedback on the story!
> 
> ~Mari


	7. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi and Sarukui run into trouble on their way home. 
> 
> Akaashi gets to know the enigmatic Washio and learns about the history of Fukurodani and why Bokuto is resented by the third-years.

* * *

On the walk to the train station, Akaashi learned that Sarukui lived within walking distance of the school. When Akaashi protested that the wing-spiker didn’t need to walk with him to the station, his upperclassman had brushed him off good-naturedly, telling him it was on his way.

Akaashi’s legs felt shaky during the walk to the station and he knew he would be sore the next day or two. He was silently thankful that Sarukui was distracting him by showing him pictures of his younger brother on his phone, happily bragging about how cute and smart his younger brother was.

‘ _What a doting older brother_ ,’ Akaashi mused to himself.

“This one’s from last year’s school sports festival,” Sarukui flipped to another picture in his phone. “Seiji won the foot race for his year.”

Akaashi nodded politely in response.

“And this one-“ Sarukui stopped abruptly, staring off into distance.

Akaashi looked around, puzzled, they were 3 blocks from the train station, walking through a residential area near the school.

“Sarukui-san?”

“This isn’t good,” Sarukui answered lowly. His mouth was pulled into a frown and he looked worried. 

“What-” Akaashi began to ask before he was interrupted.

“How ru~de” A familiar voice floated out from one of the darkened side streets. “Aren’t you going to properly greet your senpai?”

Akaashi felt his blood run cold but he carefully schooled his features into a neutral expression. “Good evening senpai.”

Tsukamoto stepped out of the shadows, a sinister grin on his face. “Hello Akaashi-kun,” the sunken-eyed setter greeted in a sing-song voice. “Did you finish all of your laps like a good little pet?”

 _‘I think you already know the answer to your question,’_ Akaashi wanted to bite back but he held his tongue. After all, his less than sincere exchanges with his upperclassman was one of the reasons he’d been targeted by the other setter.

“Yes, I did senpai.”

“Is that so?” Nagai asked, stepping out of the shadows to join the setter. “And where’s our prodigious ace? Did he not stay to watch you run your laps?”

“Oh, poor little pet. Have you been abandoned? How sad!” Okano also stepped out, a wicked grin on his face.

“Bokuto stayed until the end, just like you told him to senpai,” Sarukui spoke up. His voice was calm but Akaashi could feel the tension radiating off his body.

“And that’s funny to you?” Tsukamoto snapped.

“No, senpai” Sarukui refuted quickly.

“Then why are you smiling?”

“I’m not smiling, senpai.”

“Don’t mind him Tsukamoto,” Nagai piped up, “That’s just the way his mouth is, isn’t it _monkey-boy_?”

“Yes senpai, my mouth is naturally like this,” Sarukui replied lowly, his mouth pinched tight to pull down the natural upturn of the corner of his lips.

“Hmpf, whatever,” Tsukamoto scoffed, turning his attention back to Akaashi. “You’re looking peppy for having just run 50 laps around the soccer field,” he commented, sounding displeased.

Akaashi didn’t reply, focusing on keeping his expression neutral.

“So, why isn’t our golden boy with you? Hmm?” Tsukamoto continued to taunt him. “Are you mad at him? A lover’s quarrel perhaps?” The third-year sounded gleeful.

‘ _Ah so that was his goal,’_ Akaashi confirmed a suspicion he’d had earlier. ‘T _o drive a wedge between us._ ’

“Yeah, we saw Bokuto run by here a while back looking a little dejected,” Nagai added.

 _‘What?’_ Akaashi thought to himself, ‘ _They just asked where Bokuto was… but if they already knew he’d gone home, that means they’ve been waiting here for a while…’_

Akaashi exchanged a quick look with Sarukui. From his expression, he could tell that Sarukui had come to the same conclusion.

“I asked you a question Akaashi~kun,” Tsukamoto sing-songed.

“No, I am not upset with Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replied in the most neutral tone he could muster. He knew the answer would likely irritate the third-year but he couldn’t think of a better answer.

“Why do you call him that?” Tsukamoto snapped, his gleeful mood gone and replaced with pure anger.

“I don’t follow,” Akaashi replied automatically, immediately cursing himself for his glib reply and not thinking it through first. He was exhausted and his usually quick thought process was lagging.

“Why do you address Bokuto as ‘san’ but address me as ‘senpai’?”

“You know, now that I think about it,” Okano joined in, “Akaashi-kun here addresses all of the second-years as ‘san’ but only calls us ‘senpai’.”

“Yeah, when he deigns to speak to us that is,” Nagai added.

Akaashi’s stomach dropped, his thought process grinding to a halt before spinning off in all directions.

He knew he addressed all the second-years using the honorific ‘san’. It was a habit he’d had since childhood, likely from his strict upbringing. There were times in the past when he’d been accused of being cold and unfriendly for addressing his upperclassmen, sometimes even his classmates as ‘san’. 

He’d never had much use for ‘chan’ or ‘kun’. He would rather default to ‘san’ and avoid having to pay attention to social degrees of separation between himself and others. Besides, he had no particular interest in being ‘chummy’ with others. He liked the amount of distance and impersonality ‘san’ afforded him. It had the added bonus of being a safe honourific that wouldn’t cause insult, in most cases.

Of course, he would use ‘sensei’ and ‘sama’ or other more reverent honourifics as appropriate.

But now that he thought about it, he had never used ‘senpai’ until he’d joined the Fukurodani volleyball club; he had never used it during his first of second year at the Mori Middle School Volleyball Club.

So why did he call Tsukamoto ‘senpai’? Had he always called him ‘senpai’? And did he call the other third-years senpai?

Akaashi searched his memory for any conversations he might have had with any of the third-years. They were few and far between.

Of course he said the customary greeting at the beginning and end of practice but they were the generic “Good Afternoon”, “You worked hard today,” and “Thank you for your guidance”. No names or honourifics were used.

Like the other underclassmen, he address Kawamura as ‘Captain’, he didn’t think he’d every exchanged any words with Ito, the substitute server who was often absent. Mizuoka had attempted to engage him in friendly small talk every now and then but Akaashi had usually answered with polite monosyllabic answers. He also had no recollection of ever having had a conversation with Satou or Nagai.

But he must have addressed him at some point? And it was entirely possible he had called them ‘senpai’, but he couldn’t remember.

He did remember, much to his great displeasure, being on the receiving end of many of Tsukamoto’s barbs and being forced to answer him, much like he was being forced to answer today. And each of those times Akaashi had called Tsukamoto ‘senpai’.

_‘But why?’_

Because all the other club members called him ‘senpai’?

‘ _No, it’s not that.’_

Akaashi was not one to be swayed easily by the habits and actions of others.

 _‘When did I start calling Tsukamoto ‘senpai’?’_ He wondered to himself, approaching the problem from another angle.

_‘Probably around the time he started goading me with snarky comments.’_

And that was after Akaashi had blocked the other’s setter dump; after Akaashi had witnessed Tsukamoto’s style of play, and concluded he was a cunning but selfish player.

 _‘Ah, that’s what it is,_ ’ Akaashi thought. ‘ _I think him unworthy of respect_.’

And so, he had unconsciously addressed the third-year as ‘senpai’. And because he felt that Tsukamto’s cohorts, Nagai, Satou and Okano were equally as contemptable, at least in his eyes, he also addressed them as ‘senpai’. Because it was the bare minimum civility he could get away with, without being considered rude. Well, until it was pointed out that he was addressing the second-years more politely than the third-years.

 _‘I’ve been careless,’_ Akaashi chastised himself.

“Akaashi…” Akaashi was snapped out of his thoughts by the strained voice of Sarukui.

He glanced to his side and noted that Sarukui was grimacing, clearly uncomfortable, a bead of sweat flowing down his temple.

 _‘What?’_ he thought to himself, turning his attention back to the third-years. They looked furious.

“What the fuck is your problem!” Tsukamoto growled at him, a vein pulsing in his forehead. “I asked you a question and you just stand there like some dumb fuck, staring off into space!”

 _‘I lost track of my surroundings?’_ Akaashi thought in alarm.

 _‘I need to diffuse the situation,’_ he thought desperately to himself. Next to him, Sarukui stood stiff as a board, tense, looking like he was in pain. The air around him felt suffocating.

Akaashi briefly contemplated fighting his way out of it, but they were outnumbered and three to two. _‘Four to two if Satou is waiting somewhere in the wings…’_ Akaashi quickly discarded this option. Sarukui might be an Alpha but so were the other three. And Akaashi wasn’t the fighting type, nor was he in the greatest physical condition at the moment, especially after having run 50 laps around the soccer field.

‘ _That also rules out making a run for it,’_ Akaashi concluded. ‘ _But why am I even thinking about fighting? I would never consider fighting.’_

 _‘I also need to think of Sarukui-san,’_ Akaashi fought through the fog clouding his mind. _‘I can’t inconvenience him more than I already have.’_

Akaashi gritted his teeth, concluding that there was only one course of action that he could take, and it was the one that he didn’t want to take.

‘ _If only I could think clearly…’_ Akaashi’s mind felt like sludge.

Taking a deep breath, Akaashi bent down into a deep bow.

“I am very sorry for my insolence, it was not intended.”

Akaashi felt himself yanked up by the collar of his shirt. “You’re sorry?” Tsukamoto snarled inches from his face. “That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

Akaashi couldn’t respond. The fog had completely taken over his mind, slowing his thought process to a standstill.

In his periphery, Akaashi saw Sarukui get pulled back by Nagai and Okano. Apparently the second-year had moved to help him.

“You’re sorry?” Tsukamoto snarled again. “Where do you get off, huh? Coming in with your ‘holier than thou’ attitude, thinking that you can take my spot as setter! You’re a fucking Beta! Know your fucking place and show us the proper respect!”

“I… I… apologize. I…” Akaashi struggled to form the words. If only he could think! Why couldn’t he think?

‘ _Why is it so hard to breathe?’_ he thought desperately to himself.

And just when he felt he was going to suffocate, the pressure around his throat suddenly let up and the air around him cleared. He nearly stumbled forward into the road in front of him but managed to catch his balance in the nick of time.

“It’s late, shouldn’t we all be getting home?” a deep voice spoke from behind him.

“Took you long enough,” Sarukui muttered from where he stood a few feet away, straightening his crumpled blazer. 

Akaashi glanced behind him to see Washio standing, arms crossed and glaring at the third-years that, to a Akaashi’s surprise, had taken a few steps back.

“What do you want you fucking lapdog?” Tsukamoto spat.

“Nothing. I’m on my way home. It seems like Sarukui and Akaashi are also on their way home. I thought I might join them.”

“Well, you and monkey-boy can leave. We still have some business with Akaashi-kun here,” Okano said, his voice friendly but with a sharp undertone.

“I think Akaashi needs to get home soon, right?” Washio stepped up next to Akaashi and glanced down at him.

Akaashi nodded silently, not trusting his voice.

“Let’s go,” Washio began to walk towards the station.

At Sarukui’s nod, Akaashi followed, being careful to give the third-years a wide berth.

“We’re not done!” Tsukamoto snarled from behind them.

“Uh oh,” Sarukui muttered. Despite his utterance of concern, Akaashi was perplexed to seek Sarukui smirking. 

Washio sighed heavily and then slowly turned around the face the third-years, stone-faced.

“We’re done here.”

Even though his tone was even, the third-years flinched, turning pale.

“Fucking lap-dog! You’ll regret this!” Okano spat as the third-years turned and retreated into the night.

‘ _They were retreating?_ ’ Akaashi thought, amazed.

Sarukui let out a heavy sigh. “Thanks, Washio.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner, college prep class ran late. Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Akaashi?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for your assistance Washio-san.”

Washio simply nodded.

Akaashi heard the pop of a lid and glanced back to see Sarukui spraying himself with his neutralizing spray.

“Their stink got on my clothes,” Sarukui explained simply. “Here,” he sprayed around Akaashi’s shirt collar. “I know you can’t smell it but I’m sure you don’t want to stink like Tsukamoto-senpai. He stinks worse than Bokuto,” the second-year joked lightly.

“Oh, thank you,” Akaashi replied numbly.

“Bokuto?” Washio raised a brow.

“Oh yeah, Bokuto got a little overwhelmed and scented Akaashi.” Sarukui extended the spray towards Washio.

“Hm. Old habits are hard to break.” Washio accepted the spray and quickly spritzed himself.

Sarukui signed audibly in relief when he did. He smiled when he saw Akaashi’s inquisitive look. “Washio can give off some pretty terrifying pheromones, even if they are defensive.” 

“You exaggerate Saru,” Washio stated as he tossed the can back to his teammate as they walked towards the station.

They reached the train station without further incident, much to Akaashi’s relief.

“I’m headed that way,” Sarukui nodded towards the residential area beyond the station.

“Are you god on your own Saru?” Washio asked.

“Yup, no worries.” Sarukui grinned easily as he waved.

“Stay alert,” Washio stated.

“Will do!” Sarukui jogged lightly away from them with a final wave.

“You take the green line.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” Akaashi replied, wondering why the tall blocker knew what train line he took home.

“Westbound?”

“Yes,” Akaashi replied again as they tapped their commuter passes at the gates.

“So do I,” Washio replied without emotion.

And so Akaashi found himself waiting awkwardly at the platform with his taciturn upperclassman. The train came soon enough and Akaashi boarded with Washio.

Washio sat next to the door, arms crossed. Akaashi hesitated for a moment before sitting next to him. After all, it would be odd not to.

He fidgeted with his hands, his mind retracing the events of the day. The other second-years had said that Washio had known Bokuto since childhood. Maybe he would be able to answer the questions ricocheting around his head. Then again, Washio didn't seem like the approachable type, nor did he seem to be the talkative type.

“You look like you want to ask me something.”

Akaashi looked up in surprise.

“So, ask.”

Akaashi hesitated, unable to read the other’s expression.

Washio looked at him evenly, his face still expressionless. “It’s my face, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“A child took one look at my face the other day and started crying. It was troubling.”

“Oh…” Akaashi almost laughed but reigned it in. 

“The others said that you’ve known Bokuto the longest,” he began tentatively.

Washio nodded. “I’ve known Bokuto since we were five or six.”

“You went to school together?” Akaashi was surprised. If Bokuto and Washio had known each other since childhood, he would have expected them to be much closer.

Washio shook his head. “No, we went to different schools until we both joined Fukurodani last year. Our families are… acquainted.”

“Oh.” Akaashi fell silent, mulling things over. “Why,” he licked his lips, finding his mouth dry. “Why do the third-years resent Bokuto-san so much? It doesn't seem like simple envy or because Bokuto-san is a year below them… it’s like they seem to think he doesn’t deserve to be the team’s ace.”

Washio raised his eyebrows in surprise before frowning. “You noticed.” Washio sighed heavily. “Has Bokuto told you about his family?” 

‘ _What does his family have to do with this?’_ Akaashi’ wondered.

“A little,” he replied. “He told me that his parents are Alphas. And that his aunt, uncle and cousins were Alphas too. I think he might have mentioned his grandparents as well??

“Bokuto brought that up?” Washio’s expression remain guarded. Akaashi almost felt as though the tall second-year was sensing him out.

“Ah, no,” Akaashi continued to fidget, his fingers twiddling as his anxiety increased. “I asked him. I was trying to explain to him why I… I got upset when Konoha brought up that I was Beta.”

Washi frowned slightly at Akaashi’s answer. “And that’s all Bokuto told you when you asked? That his family is all Alpha?”

‘ _That’s all? Am I supposed to know more?’_ Akaashi puzzled.

“Sarukui-san mentioned that Bokuto-san lives with his brother and that the rest of the family is in Chiba.”

Washio stared at him for a moment before he began to speak. “Have you heard of the Takeru Group?”

Akaashi nodded. Just about everyone knew it was one of the oldest conglomerates in Japan, privately owned and run by a powerful Alpha family. The Takeru Group was involved in all industries with strong political ties to the governing party.

“And you know that the Takeru Group founded Fukurodani Academy?”

Akaashi blinked in surprise. This was new information to him.

“No, I didn’t. I thought Takeru Group founded Takeru Preparatory High School,” Akaashi replied. Takeru Prepatory High School was famous nation-wide for being one of the top academic high schools in the country. There were also the affiliated Takeru Middle School and Takeru Elementary School, all three schools being boarding schools.

Washio nodded. “Yes. And Fukurodani Academy as well. Well, more so the family than the Group. Fukurodani is named after one of the family’s traditional properties in Shizuoka.”

“I had no idea,” Akaashi blinked in shock. The Takeru Group’s connection to the school had not come up in his research when he was deciding between Fukurodani and Suzumeoka.

“Do you know the kanji for Takeru?”

Akaashi shook his head. “No, I thought the Group used the katakana spelling: タケル?”

Washio pulled out his phone. “Yes, but the family’s name’s is written like this.”

Akaashi took the offered phone and glanced at the characters: **梟帥**

 **‘** _Owl Commander_ ’ Akaashi pieced the two characters together. “This is read as ‘Takeru’?”

“It’s a very traditional way of writing the name, it means ‘fearless tribe leader’. The Takeru family was one of the Alpha families to rebuild Japan after Calamitas II.”

A lightbulb went off in Akaashi’s head. “They’re the _Owl Clan_ _?”_ Akaashi had learned about the Owl Clan in history class. A powerful group of Alpha families operating under the banner of the owl with the slogan ‘Protect from Hardship’. Accordingly to the history books, the clans were abolished over 300 years ago when the country shifted from clan rule to a democracy.

“One of the families that were part of the clan, yes. They use the katakana spelling of their name in business to distance themselves from their historical affiliation with the _Owl Clan._ ”

“But what does this have to do with Bokuto-san?”

‘ _Unless…’_ the cogs in Akaashi’s mind began to move. ‘ _Bokuto… The old characters used to write ‘Owl’. Fukorodani…_ ‘ _Owl Valley’._

“I thought Bokuto was an odd family name. So Bokuto-san’s family is from the Clan as well?” Akaashi asked. 

Washio paused briefly. “No, but I can see why you would think that. As far as I know, Bokuto’s last name, his father’s, is a coincidence. Bokuto, through his maternal line, is the great-nephew of the current chairman of the Takeru Group.”

Akaashi’s mind began to spin with all the new information, his thoughts scattering into various analytical avenues. Akaashi had guessed that Bokuto came from an old Alpha lineage, but he hadn’t expected one of the most predominant families in Japanese history. Granted, the Takeru Group had been less prominent in recent years, however, Akaashi had learned from his father that older powers tended to be less conspicuous. That or the group was truly fading away into obscurity. Akaashi guessed it was the former.

“So Bokuto-san was admitted to Fukurodani through his family connections? And the third-years are resentful of that fact?”

Washio nodded. “He would have qualified on his own through his volleyball skills. That’s actually the reason his family sent him to Fukurodani.”

Akaashi remained silent, sensing that Washio had more to say.

“Bokuto had trouble in middle-school with his volleyball team. I heard it was because his teammates found him too overbearing so they would often abandon him during practices and drills. He had a good coach that saw his potential and recommended that Bokuto move to Tokyo to attend a school with a more competitive team. Fukurodani has always had a decent team and Coach Yamiji is well respected so his family thought it would be a good fit. They never intended for Bokuto to receive preferential treatment but… once the school administrators learned of Bokuto’s connection to the Takeru Group…”

It clicked. Konoha’s dismay over the vice-principal’s clear favouritism of Bokuto. The third-years referring to Bokuto as the ‘untouchable golden-boy’.

“I had no idea,” Akaashi finally spoke after he finished processing his thoughts. “Bokuto-san has never mentioned the Takeru Group to me.”

Washio shrugged. “I’m not surprised. I don’t think it really matters to him. Plus, his family is… unique,” Washio paused briefly, as though searching for the right word. “They have a farm in Chiba, far removed from the main family and their corporate dealings.”

“So why do the third-years know about Bokuto’s connection to the Takeru Group. Is it because of the school administrators?”

“The Chairman came to one of our matches last year. It was bad luck that Tsukamoto’s father is in politics and recognized him right away. As for the school administration, they probably figured it out through Bokuto’s admittance forms and because his brother is a Takeru but they don’t publicize the fact since they know they would get in trouble. It’s obvious in their treatment of him though,” Washio scoffed in annoyance. 

‘ _His brother is a Takeru? Half-siblings maybe?’_ Akaashi wondered but quickly stored away that thought as Washio continued to tell him about Bokuto’s circumstances.

“It doesn’t help that the school has placed a lot of hope in Bokuto. Fukurodani’s volleyball team has always been strong but it’s been stagnant for the past five years or so. We’ve made it to the Inter-high and Spring Tournaments almost every year but we’ve never placed very high. And of course the third-years aren’t happy with all the attention Bokuto is getting as the school’s hope for better rankings.”

“Oh,” Akaashi nodded. “It’s a shame. You would think the team would be happy to have a star player.”

“A star player?” Washio’s expressionless façade cracked with a small smile. “Komi and Konoha did say you were a weird one. Bokuto is gifted but he’s inconsistent. Last year’s third-years were easy-going and tolerant, especially the setter, but this year’s third years aren’t as forgiving, especially Tsukamoto, which is the worst match you could ask for. They feel that Bokuto shouldn’t have been given the ace position when he’s unreliable.”

“Bokuto-san is an inconsistent and unreliable player?” Akaashi had been hearing rumblings, first from Coach Yamiji and then from some of the second-years about Bokuto being ‘moody’. Were they referring to Bokuto’s breakdown earlier today? But that didn’t have anything to do with Bokuto’s playing ability, at least as far as he could tell.

‘ _Unless Bokuto breaks down and becomes despondent during matches?’_ Akaashi thought with concern.

Washio looked surprised for a moment. “Bokuto hasn’t had one of his episodes yet,” he said almost to himself. “It’s hard to describe, you’ll find out for yourself soon enough. Probably once we start playing matches against other schools.”

“Oh,” Akaashi didn’t know how to reply. _‘I guess I just have to see one of Bokuto-san’s ‘episodes’ for myself to truly understand.’_

Another thought floated to the forefront of his mind. He debated against asking the question for a moment but ultimately decided to forge ahead. While Washio was imposing and struck an intimidating figure, Akaashi was starting to sense that while quiet, Washio was considerate and observant.

“Washio-san, excuse my impertinence but why did the third-years call you a lap-dog?”

Washio’s sat back in his seat and glanced down at Akaashi, as though he was searching for something. And just when Akaashi thought his question would go unanswered, Washio finally spoke. “My father is the secretary to the Chairman of the Takeru Group.”

‘ _Oh.’_ That was a twist Akaashi wasn’t expecting.

“I attended Takeru Elementary and Takeru Middle School. I was supposed to attend Takeru Preparatory High School but when it was decided that Bokuto would attend Fukurodani, the Chairman suggested that I attend Fukurodani as well, to keep an eye on Bokuto.”

“Oh,” Akaashi replied blandly, unsure of what the proper response would be. “Sorry.”

Washio shrugged. “Don’t be. I’m actually happy about it. Fukurodani has a better volleyball team and the atmosphere at Fukurodani is more relaxed than at Takeru High. Plus, the Takeru Group is paying for all my school and club fees.”

“So you are Bokuto-san watch-dog?” Akaashi couldn’t help but blurt out.

Washio actually laughed. “No, nothing that serious. I just keep an eye on him, but I would do that even without being asked. Honestly, I think that the Chairman knew that I didn’t want to attend Takeru High so he used Bokuto as an excuse to convince my father to let me attend Fukurodani.”

“I see,” Akaashi replied blandly, unable to think of a more appropriate response.

Washio simply shrugged and crossed his arms, falling silent again.

“Thank you for telling me,” Akaashi finally spoke after a minute of silence, gathering his bags when he realized the train was nearing his stop. “You have helped me understand something that had been bothering me for a while.”

Washio nodded. “You’re welcome. Be careful on your way home.” 

Akaashi bowed politely to his upperclassman as he exited the train.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, his parents’ house was dark when Akaashi returned home. He guessed that his father was out drinking with friends or clients. His mother had most likely already gone to bed.

Akaashi carefully climbed the stairs to the second floor, his muscles screaming in protest.

He dropped his bags on the floor next to the desk and quickly changed into his pajamas, sighing in relief as collapsed onto his bed, finally allowing himself to feel his fatigue from the day. He was glad that tomorrow was Saturday. 

He was just about to fall asleep when his phone beeped, alerting him that he had received a message.

Grumbling to himself, Akaashi pulled out his phone and unlocked it. He had several messages from an unknown number.

_[ Hey! This is Konoha. ]_

_[ I got your number from Bokuto, I hope you don’t mind. ]_

_[ Just checking in to see if you got home OK? ]_

Akaashi quickly typed out reply.

_[ Yes, thank you Konoha-san. ]_

To his surprise, his phone beeped again with several new messages.

_[ Good to hear! ]_

_[ Feel free to save my number! ]_

_[ I’m gonna add you to LINE, hope that’s OK ]_

A second later, Akaashi received a notification that he had been added as contact on the app. He hit accept and dropped his phone back on his bed, his eyes unusually heavy.

* * *

Akaashi’s dreamless sleep was shrilly interrupted by the screeching of his phone alarm. He groggily scrabbled around in his sheets, trying to find his phone. After what seemed like a frustratingly long time, he finally found his phone and turned off his alarm.

After fighting the urge to go back to sleep, Akaashi pushed himself up into a sitting position and groaned. His body felt like lead and the muscles in his legs screamed in agony. What was worse, though, was the throbbing in his head.

With great effort, he shuffled out of his room and to the bathroom and lethargically brushed his teeth and splashed water on his face, trying to clear his head. The cold water did little to lift the fog in his mind or to calm his headache.

Seeking relief from his throbbing head and aching body, he shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen where he knew his mother stocked one of the cabinets with medication for various ailments. He sorted through the cabinet, finding the bottle of pain reliever and shook two pills into the palm of his hand. He put the pill bottle back in the cabinet and filled a glass with tap water. He popped the pills in his mouth and took a sip of water, suddenly realizing that he was parched. He downed the glass of water and then refilled it, draining the second glass as well.

“Keiji?”

Akaashi was startled by the sudden presence of his mother.

“Oh,” he blinked at her dumbly for a few second before he bowed his head slightly. “Good morning, mother.”

“Are you not feeling well? You look flushed.”

“Just a headache,” Akaashi replied, rinsing out his glass and setting it on the drying rack. He was startled when his mother reached up to feel his forehead, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You have a fever, go back to bed,” she ordered curtly. “I’ll call the school to let them know that you won’t be attending today.”

Akaashi briefly considered arguing but realized that his mother was right. He was in no shape to attend school.

“Thank you mother,” he whispered and shuffled back to his room, tumbling into his bed and pulling the covers over his head. 

He could hear his parents’ muffled voices down the hall. He could easily guess that they were talking about him.

He heard his bedroom door open a short while later and pulled down the covers to see his mother standing over him with a thermometer.

“Open,” she commanded and Akaashi complied, opening his mouth.

The thermometer beeped and his mother checked it, frowning. “It’s not bad enough to warrant going to the hospital. I’ll come back and check on you in a few hours.”

Akaashi nodded obediently and was about to pull the covers back over his head when his father entered his room.

“I have to go into work today, we have clients coming in from Nagoya,” he said as he tied his tie. “How high is his fever?” 

“38.6 C”

Akaashi’s father nodded. “Call me if it gets higher and I’ll come home and take him to the hospital. Get some sleep Keiji.”

“Yes, father.” Akaashi pulled the covers back up as his parents left his room, closing the door softly behind them. 

* * *

Akaashi woke a few hours later, feeling slightly better. He sat up and noticed the sports drinks and cooling patch left on his desk, next to his bed. He grabbed one of the bottles and greedily guzzled down the contents before peeling the backing off the cooling patch and sticking it to his forehead. He sunk back down on his bed, feeling immediate relief.

A few minutes, there was a light rap at his door and his mother entered, carrying a tray. She set it down on his desk, pulling out the thermometer. Akaashi opened his mouth unprompted.

“38.1C. Your fever’s going down,” she announced briskly. “I made you okayu,” she transferred the tray to Akaashi’s lap as he sat up in bed. “Eat the oranges as well if you feel up to it.”

“Thank you, mother. And thank you for bringing me the drinks and the cooling patch.”

A strange wistful expression flittered across her face and she tucked a stray black curl behind her ear. “Of course. Leave the tray on your desk when you’re done, I’ll come back and get it later.”

Akaashi carefully ate his mother’s rice gruel, feeling a sense of nostalgia, remembering the times when his mother didn’t look right through him as though he didn’t exist. Once he was done, he peeled the mandarin orange and quickly finished it, eating it in four bites. With a satiated sigh, he set the tray back on his desk.

His phone fell to the floor as he rearranged his covers and as he leaned down to pick it up, he noticed that the message light on his phone was blinking.

He unlocked his phone to see that he had several text messages from Konoha.

_[ Hey! ]_

_[ We swung by your classroom and your classmates told us you were home sick. Everything ok? ]_

_[ Saru told Komi and me about what happened last night. ]_

Akaashi quickly typed out a reply. 

_[ Hello, Konoha-san ]_

_[ I have a fever but I should be fine soon. I’m very sorry to worry you. ]_

_[ Please let Coach and Captain know that I will be absent today. I apologize for the inconvenience. ]_

Akaashi was surprised when he received an immediate reply.

_[ A fever? That sucks! Don’t worry, I’ll let the team know. ]_

_[ Hey, can you video chat on LINE for a sec? ]_

A second later, his phone began to vibrate with the incoming video call. Akaashi hesitated for a few seconds before hitting the ‘Accept’ button.

Konoha’s face popped up on the screen. “You look like shit,” the second-year commented. “You really are sick!”

“I’m sorry?” Akaashi replied dumbly. ‘ _Konoha-san thought I was faking?’_

“Ah well, we were kinda worried that you might have skipped out because of what happened yesterday.”

Akaashi simply stared at the screen, unable to hide the irritation from showing on his face.

“Right, sorry! Don’t make such a scary face! We were really worried, right Komi?”

The video panned over to Komi who was in the middle of taking a bite out of sandwich. “Yep,” he replied, his mouth full.

“Hey, just a sec,” Konoha was back and, from what Akaashi could see, it looked he walking towards the back of the classroom.

“See!” Konoha declared as Akaashi’s screen was filled with an image of Bokuto sitting slumped with his chin on his desk. “Akaashi didn’t quit school or the team, he’s just at home with a fever.”

“Akaashi?” Bokuto looked up eyes wide. “Akaashi! Are you coming to practice today?”

“Of course not you idiot!” Akaashi could hear Konoha snap. “Can’t you see that he’s sick?”

“Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow is Sunday!”

“Monday?”

Akaashi heard Konoha’s phone clatter onto a hard surface, probably Bokuto’s desk, and he was now looking at the ceiling of the second-years’ classroom. He could hear scuffling in the background.

“Hello?” Akaashi called out, wondering if he should end the call.

“Hi,” Sarukui’s smiling face suddenly appeared on the screen. “Konoha is a bit busy at the moment and afternoon classes are going to start soon, get well soon!”

The video call ended abruptly and Akaashi sat staring at his phone before he sank back down into his bed and went to sleep.

* * *

It was already dark outside when Akaashi woke next. The curtains to his room had been drawn and the tray had been cleared from his desk. In its place were more sports drinks and oranges.

Akaashi downed another sports drink and peeled one of the oranges. As he ate his orange, he unlocked his phone. This time there were messages from Sarukui, whom he’d exchanged numbers with on the walk to the station, before they were ambushed by the third years.

He opened the messages, wondering what the perpetually smiling second year had sent him.

_[ This is what you miss when you play hooky ]_

Akaashi tapped open the video message.

‘Old Time Rock & Roll’ began to play in the background and the camera panned to Komi was dancing with a mop as he mopped the club’s shower room floors. Konoha walked through the frame, holding a sponge and a bucket, looking unamused. As the song reached the chorus, Komi jumped onto one of the benches and began to play air guitar on the mop.

Konoha could be heard shouting “Komi! Stop fooling around and get back to cleaning!”

Komi ignored him and continued to mime playing the guitar.

Washio walked into the picture, pushing a large garbage bin in front of him. Without missing a beat, he pushed Komi, causing him to tumble into the garbage bin, continuing on out of the frame as if nothing had happened. 

Akaashi laughed softly to himself as the video ended. It seemed like the second-years had all pitched in to help Bokuto with the punishment imposed by the third years.

Akaashi dropped back down under his covers, idly wondering why the third-years hadn’t stopped the second-years from helping Bokuto.

Feeling the irresistible siren call of sleep, Akaashi decided that it was a puzzle he could solve another day.

* * *

Akaashi walked along the path by the river, the walk helping ease and stretch out his aching leg muscles. When he’d woken up Sunday morning, his headache and fever were completely gone and the fog had subsided from his mind.

His internal musings were interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. To his surprise, it was his mother calling him.

“Hello, mother?”

“Keiji, you need to come home right now. We have important guests that will be arriving soon,” his mother said breathlessly. 

“What?” he responded dumbly, taken aback. His mother sounded nervous and excited?

“Just hurry.”

The line went dead.

When Akaashi stepped through the doorway of his parents’ house, he was immediately set upon by his mother who had changed into more formal clothes and had on a full face of makeup.

“Go change into some more presentable clothes,” she ordered as pushed Akaashi towards the stairs.

Still confused as to what exactly was happening and who was coming to visit, Akaashi dutifully changed into a pair of dark pants and a collared shirt. He briefly considered adding a jacket but quickly discarded the idea due to heat of the day.

When he came back down the stairs, he noted that his mother was a flurry of activity as she dashed in and out of the living room, tidying magazines and fluffing up pillows.

“Why isn’t your father back yet?” she muttered as she rushed past Akaashi into the kitchen, “I sent him out 45 minutes ago!”

‘ _Sent him out for what?’_ Akaashi wondered. ‘ _And who is coming?’_ Given that his father had been sent out last minute, it wasn’t any guest of his. And his mother rarely had company over, especially not on such short notice." 

The doorbell rang as his mother was retrieving her tea set from the kitchen cupboard. “Keiji, go answer the door and bring our guests into the living room,” she ordered as she blustered about the kitchen.

“Yes, mother.” Akaashi padded obediently towards the entryway, noticing that his mother had lined up two pairs of guest slippers by the front door. ‘ _So it’s two guests,_ ’ Akaashi thought as he pulled open the door.

Akaashi had to forcibly school his features to hide his shock when he opened the door and saw the man on the other side. At first, Akaashi thought that Bokuto had suddenly aged 10 years and grown half a foot. And although the man looked a lot like Bokuto, he was also very different.

The man on the other side of the door was at least 6’5” if not 6’6”. Akaashi guessed that he was in his mid to late twenties. He was dressed in what was clearly an expensive three-piece suit that fit him like a glove. Despite the suit, Akaashi could tell that he was well-muscled, but far more lean and lanky than Bokuto; his face was more angular and defined as well. He had the same gray hair with black streaks and the same golden eyes, but while Bokuto’s eyes were wide and child-like, the man’s eyes were narrower and sharper. And those eyes were looking down at him, scrutinizing.

“You must be Akaashi Keiji.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> So wow, the response to the last chapter was overwhelming. Thank you so much! (Maybe I should always have month-long gaps between chapters? Just kidding! :P) 
> 
> I planned to update a lot sooner but then I went and wrote one of the epilogue chapters...
> 
> I also cut this chapter short because it was getting way too long. So good news, the next chapter is 85% finished so the next update should be real soon (yes I've said that before...)
> 
> Anyways, I really appreciate your comments, kudos and readerships. I'll keep updating as quickly as I can but I'm starting to get the sinking feeling that this might be a year-long project, if I can stick it through that is... (T.T)
> 
> I keep telling myself I need to slog through to the end so I can post some of the epilogue that I've already written. Some days I wish I'd skipped the high school bit and jumped straight to post-time skip but then I remember that the backstory is necessary to establish what I have planned for the time-skip. *sigh*
> 
> Enough of my tired ramblings. Hopefully I'll see you all in my next update!
> 
> ~Mari


	8. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi and his family meet Bokuto's brother, Takeru Tomohiko. 
> 
> Through his meeting with Bokuto's brother, Akaashi collects more pieces to the puzzle that is Bokuto Koutarou.

"You must be Akaashi Keiji.”

“Ah, yes,” he replied, stupefied.

“Akaashi!?” Bokuto suddenly popped out from behind the tall man. “Hey!! Akaashi! Are you feeling better? You look like you’re feeling better!”

“Quiet down Kou,” the other man spoke lowly to the energetic ace before bowing slightly. “My name is Takeru Tomoyuki. I have heard much about you from my brother, Koutarou.”

“Oh, a pleasure to meet you, I am always in Bokuto-san’s care.” Akaashi returned the bow with the standard formal response. ‘ _So this the brother Washio-san and Sarukui-san were talking about.’_ “Ah, please come in,” he ushered them inside.

* * *

Akaashi sat in one of the dining room chairs that had been moved into the living room, doing his best not to fidget with his hands. Next to him was his father, seated on the living room couch, adjusting the sleeve of his shirt. He too had changed, from when Akaashi had seen him earlier that morning, into a checkered dress shirt and dark-gray slacks. Across from them, Bokuto and his brother sat in the room’s only two armchairs. His mother continued to flit in and out of the living room, dressed in one of her best dresses, bringing in the tea and fussing with the items on the small coffee table placed between the couch and the armchairs.

Bokuto sat with his hands on his knees, his eyes darting every which way as he glanced around the living room. He was dressed in a light blue button-down shirt and a pair of rolled khakis. It was odd seeing Bokuto dressed in something other than his school uniform or athletic wear. Akaashi guessed that Bokuto was wearing the most ‘formal’ attire he had in his closet, not counting his uniform. 

Next to him, his brother sat straight-backed, his long limbs seeming to spill out of the chair. His elbows rested on the arms of his chair, his hands clasped loosely in front him of him. Akaashi noticed that his hands were large, even for his stature, with incredibly long fingers. His hair was slicked back, making the black under-streaks in his hair stand out. Despite his formal posture and dress, he looked completely at ease in his surroundings, as though he knew he held all the power in the room.

The room was quiet as Akaashi’s mother flitted back in with a tray of miniature cakes set individually on delicate plates. The cakes were from a European bakery two stations over and had been bought by his father who had returned home shortly after Bokuto and his brother had arrived. His mother continued to fuss, carefully placing a desert fork next to each plate.

Seeing his mother’s nervous energy, Akaashi guessed that she knew that Bokuto’s brother was connected to the Takeru Group. No doubt Bokuto’s brother had called ahead to arrange a time for the visit, as was the custom, and would have introduced himself during the call. Akaashi’s mother had a keen interest in Alpha families that formed the upper echelons of society, reading both news articles and gossip columns about them with voracity. On top of that, ‘Takeru’ as a last name was incredibly rare. In fact, before Washio had told him about the Takeru family, Akaashi had only known ‘Takeru’ to be used as a first name. Akaashi concluded that it wouldn’t have taken much for his mother to have made the connection.

Akaashi’s mother finally finished fussing over the items laid out on the coffee table and sat down next to his father, smoothing out the skirt of her dress.

Takeru Tomoyuki cleared his throat and shifted forward in his seat, pulling a business card from his suit jacket pocket.

“Please allow me to introduce myself formally,” he said in a polished and smooth tone, no doubt used for business. “My name is Takeru Tomoyuki. My brother Koutarou is in the same volleyball club as your son Keiji.” Bokuto’s brother offered his business card to Akaashi’s father with both hands outstretched, his body bent in a bow.

“Ah, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Akaashi’s father replied, solemnly accepting the offered busines card with two hands.

“Allow me to give you my business card as well,” Akaashi’s father pulled a business card out of his wallet, handing it over with two hands and bowing deeply. “Akaashi Seiichi. My son is always in your brother’s care.” Although his father exchanged the requisite pleasantries, Akaashi could tell that his father was utterly confused by the meeting and had no clue who Bokuto was. 

Bokuto’s brother repeated the process with Akaashi’s mother, delivering his business card with great care.

Akaashi’s mother bowed as she received the business card. “Akaashi Fumiko, I am very honoured to make your acquaintance.” She looked down at the business card in her hands and a particular gleam entered her eyes. Akaashi was familiar with the look in his mother’s eyes; it happened when she was reading or watching news about prominent Alpha families.

“Introduce yourself Koutarou,” Bokuto’s brother nudged him with his elbow.

“Huh? Oh!” Bokuto bowed with a quick bob. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou! Nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Akaashi! I’m a second-year at Fukurodani and Akaashi’s teammate on the volleyball team!”

“Oh,” Akaashi’s mother replied, confusion clearly written on her face at the different family names.

Akaashi noticed that Bokuto’s brother stiffened slightly at his mother’s expression.

“I apologize for our sudden intrusion to your home today,” Takeru Tomoyuki began with a solemn expression, “but I was just recently made aware that my brother Koutarou has caused great inconvenience to your son and for that I must apologize. I accept responsibility, as Koutarou’s guardian, for his transgressions. It is my fault for not properly guiding him.” Bokuto’s brother stood up and bowed deeply.

“Kou!” he hissed quietly to Bokuto who was staring with open curiosity at Akaashi’s parents. When Bokuto didn’t immediately react, he reached over and grabbed him by the back of his shirt hauled him bodily to his feet.

“I’m very sorry for causing trouble for Akaashi!” Bokuto said as his brother pushed his head down into a deep bow.

“Ah, please raise your heads!” Akaashi’s father spoke quickly after he recovered from his initial shock and confusion. “Umm,” he began as Bokuto and his brother sat back down, “I’m afraid we’re at a loss. We’re not sure what you might be referring to… Fumiko?” he turned to his wife.

Akaashi’s mother shook her head, indicating that she too was at a loss.

Akaashi suddenly felt himself the focus of four pairs of eyes, the most piercing gaze belonging to Bokuto’s brother who was staring at him intently with a frown.

“Keiji?” Akaashi’s father began. “Do you know what this is about?”

“Ah, it was nothing,” Akaashi responded, his throat suddenly dry. “I was at fault too so…”

“What happened?” Akaashi’s mother pressed, clearly unhappy that she was caught ignorant in the presence of their guests. ‘ _Their esteemed guests,_ ’ Akaashi’s mind supplied.

Akaashi fidgeted, feeling the intense pressure of his parents’ stares.

“I can answer that,” Tomoyuki interjected with a cool look directed at Akaashi before he turned his gaze to Akaashi’s parents. “Koutarou unwittingly pressed the fire alarm on Friday which caused the entire school to have to evacuate. It is policy at Fukurodani that transgressions made at school are punishable by both the school and any club to which the student is a member. Koutarou’s club punishment was decided by the third-year members who chose to punish Koutarou by imposing the punishment on your son.”

“Punishment?” Akaashi’s father asked, glancing between Akaashi and Bokuto’s brother.

“Yes, apparently the third-years forced your son to run 50 laps around the soccer field in Koutarou’s stead.”

“Oh my,” Akaashi’s mother raised her hands to her mouth in a picture-perfect gesture of a concerned mother.

“Yes,” Bokuto’s brother continued. “It appears that Koutarou has had some problems getting along with some of the third years which caused them to retaliate against your son who, I am told, Koutarou relies on quite a bit despite the fact that he is in a year above your son.” Tomoyuki’s gaze flicked to Bokuto who shrank down in his chair sheepishly.

“Errr,” Akaashi’s father cleared his throat awkwardly, “I have to confess, Fumiko and I were entirely unaware of the situation.” He turned towards his son. “Keiji, what did you mean when you said it was partially your fault.”

Akaashi once again found himself the focus of four pairs of eyes. “I…” he began hesitantly. “I also played a part in antagonizing the third-years. I was not as respectful to them as I should have been.”

“That’s not true!” Bokuto jumped in. “Akaashi’s always so polite to everyone including the third-years! It’s not Akaashi’s fault, it’s the third-years’ fault for being jealous because Akaashi’s better than them and for being stupid about Akaashi being a Beta!” Akaashi saw his mother flinch at the mention of his sub-gender as Bokuto’s protests continued. “Akaashi can’t help what he is! And it doesn’t matter because-”

“Be quiet Kou,” Tomoyuki growled in a tone that sent shivers down Akaashi’s spine.

“No!” Bokuto turned to his brother. “It’s not his fault!” he protested again.

“I’m not saying that it is,” Tomoyuki replied through clenched jaw.

“But you’re not saying it’s not!” Bokuto insisted.

“I didn’t say that either! Calm down!”

“But it’s all so stupid-” Bokuto tried to protest again.

Before Akaashi’s eyes, Takeru Tomoyuki’s professional veneer faded away and he morphed from a professional businessman into an older brother having an argument with his petulant younger brother.

“Would you just shut up!? Think of where we are!” At those words, Tomoyuki himself appeared to realize that he was in the Akaashi family’s living room, squabbling with his younger brother. With a deep breath, he smoothed down his tie and returned to his business-like demeanor. “I sincerely apologize for my outburst, it was very unseemly of me.”

Akaashi’s father chuckled. “Ah, that’s fine. I understand things can get heated between siblings. Regardless of what happened, the matter appears to have resolved. And Keiji, it appears that you have admitted that you might have played a role in this?”

Akaashi nodded. “Yes father.”

“And you have properly reflected on it and will make better choices going forward?”

Akaashi nodded again.

“Well, I think it’s all settled then?”

“Ah not quite,” Takeru Tomoyuki spoke up. “I have been informed that some of the third-years had confronted your son and another member of the team, off-campus, on Friday night and were… violent. I can assure that I have already raised the matter with the school and local authorities this morning and appropriate action will be taken on Monday. If you would like to be present at the meeting with the school’s board of directors on Monday morning, I can make the necessary arrangements.”

“Oh,” Akaashi’s father took a moment to absorb the new information. “And why am I hearing about this for the first time Keiji?”

Akaashi shrugged. “I didn’t want to inconvenience you or unnecessarily worry you.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. But the real truth was that he felt that no good would come from telling his parents. If his parents raised a fuss with the school, it would only make things worse with third-years. And if they didn’t bring the matter to the school’s attention, the tension at home would only double.

Akaashi’s father sighed. “I’m sorry, my son has a tendency of trying to deal with things on his own. That or being apathetic.”

“I’m sorry, father.”

“Apologize to your mother as well.”

“I’m sorry, mother.”

Akaashi’s mother nodded absently, looking shell-shocked at the news. “Seiji-san will you be able to attend the meeting tomorrow morning? I don’t think I will be able to attend.” Akaashi knew what his mother really meant. She didn’t want to attend a meeting where his sub-status might possibly be brought up. His father knew this as well.

Akaashi’s father nodded somberly. “Yes, I will make it work. Could you email me the details? My email address is on my card.”

“Of course,” Takeru Tomoyuki replied easily. “Finally, I must address the matter of your son becoming unwell. I’ve been told he was absent from school yesterday due to a fever. I believe that the punishment and confrontation led to your son’s illness. If there are any medical costs involved, please allow me to pay them.”

“Oh, that’s completely unnecessary,” Akaashi’s mother waved him away, seeming to have pulled herself out of her slump, at least outwardly. “It wasn’t that serious, and he recovered in a day.”

“I see,” Takeru Tomoyuki reached into the paper bag resting at his feet. “This is a mere trifle but please accept this with my humblest of apologies for my shortcomings as Koutarou’s guardian and for the inconvenience Koutarou has caused your son.” He extended a large box with wrapping paper that Akaashi recognized as belonging to one of the most expensive Japanese confectionary stores in Japan.

“Oh my, from Ginza. You really shouldn’t have. It’s entirely too much!” Akaashi’s mother exclaimed as she accepted the package.

Akaashi sighed inwardly at the formality of it all. The claim that the incredibly expensive gift was nothing and the obligatory fawning over the gift and proclaiming that it was too much. He found the social dance stifling.

“Ah, now that the serious conversation is over, please help yourself to some cake. I’m afraid it’s just from a local shop but I hope it’s to your taste,” Akaashi’s father urged their guests to turn their attention to the cakes that had been ignored until that point.

“Thank you,” Tomoyuki replied gracefully. “You shouldn’t have gone to the… Kou!” he reprimanded the ace who was already two forkfuls into his miniature cake.

“The cake is really delicious uncle and auntie!” Akaashi’s mother blinked at Bokuto’s familiarity and Tomoyuki sighed heavily.

“Koutarou…”

“What?” Bokuto replied around a mouthful. “It’s really tasty, you should try it too Tomo-nii!”

Akaashi’s father chuckled softly and even Akaashi’s prim and proper mother seemed to have melted slightly at Bokuto’s straight-forward and child-like quality.

“I really do apologize for my brother. I have been too lax when it comes to teaching him his manners.”

“If I may ask,” Akaashi’s father interjected after his first bite of cake. “You mentioned that you are his guardian?”

Takeru Tomoyuki nodded. “Ah yes, I should have clarified from the start. I became Koutarou’s legal guardian when he moved to Tokyo to attend Fukurodani. The rest of our family lives in Chiba.”

“I see,” Akaashi’s father nodded. “That’s quite a great responsibility for someone so young. If you don’t mind some unsolicited advice from a stranger, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Raising a teenager is no easy task and Koutarou-kun seems like a very fine young man. I am happy to know that Keiji has made such a good friend. Keiji was rather withdrawn during middle school and Fumiko and I are thrilled to see him so enthusiastic about club activities.”

Tomoyuki nodded. “Koutarou has been talking about your son non-stop since he joined the volleyball club.” Akaashi noticed that Bokuto’s brother left out the usual ‘I’m glad that Koutaro has made such a good friend as well.’ Even if it was a platitude, it was the expected response.

“Yup! Akaashi’s tosses are the best!” Bokuto grinned. “And he’s super smart too! He reads tons of books for fun. Oh, and he’s super good at figuring out other players’ strengths and weaknesses too! He figured out Nekoma’s strategy after watching just one game!”

Akaashi’s father chuckled. “Ah, I think you might be giving our son too much credit.”

“Umm… I know it is impertinent of me to ask, but I couldn’t help but notice that you have different family names?” Akaashi’s mother ventured into the conversation. Internally, Akaashi both cringed at and thanked his mother for her question. He knew that his mother was overly nosy about the dynamics of other families but he also acknowledged that he too was incredibly curious.

“Ah, that,” Tomoyuki set down his plate, glancing at Bokuto who was scraping the whipped cream off of his plate, seemingly determined to finish every last bit of the cake.

‘ _Is it a sensitive subject?’_ Akaashi wondered before Tomoyuki began to speak.

“In truth, Koutarou and I are cousins. Koutarou’s parents were killed in a motor vehicle accident when he was three, so my mother and father took him in and we were raised as siblings.”

Akaashi’s fork clattered onto his plate loudly and his mouth dropped open in shock. “Pardon me,” he mumbled for causing the disturbance.

Suddenly it all made sense. The difference in family names, Bokuto’s uncertainty as to whether his parents were Alphas and instead talking about his extended family when asked about his parents.

“Oh, I’m so very sorry,” Akaashi’s mother apologized genuinely. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a painful subject.”

“Don’t worry auntie,” Bokuto smiled brightly. “My aunt and uncle take really good care of me. Tomo-nii too. And so do Atsu-nii, Yuki-nee, Aya-nee, and Haru-nee! And my aunt says that mom and dad are watching over me so I should do my best to be happy so they can be happy too!”

“What a good child you are,” Akaash’s father commented and Akaashi was shocked to see that his father’s eyes had gotten misty.

“Yes, your parents must be very proud of you,” Akaashi’s mother added, causing Akaashi’s stomach to clench.

* * *

“If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to speak with your son,” Tomoyuki said as he pulled on his shoes at the entryway.

After the revelation about Bokuto’s parents, they had continued with awkward small talk before Tomoyuki announced that they had imposed for too long and should be leaving.

“Oh, of course,” Akaashi’s mother replied instantly. Clearly, she was swayed by Takeru Tomoyuki’s social status and was practically fawning over the man.

“Akaashi-kun, if I may have a moment,” Bokuto’s brother gestured for him to follow him outside.

Akaashi dutifully slipped on his shoes and followed Bokuto and his brother out of his parents’ house. Akaashi had no doubt that his mother would hover at the door, hoping to listen in on whatever Bokuto’s brother had to say to him. 

Once outside, Akaashi noticed the sleek black sedan parked on the street.

“Go sit in the car Kou,” Tomoyuki commanded as he unlocked the car with his remote key and led Akaashi away from his parents’ house. 

“But-”

“Car, now!” Tomoyuki snapped.

Bokuto pouted and grumbled all the way to the car where he closed the passenger door with a loud slam, causing his brother to wince and frown.

With Bokuto out of ear-shot, Tomoyuki’s attitude shifted. The intense aura around him intensified and Akaashi felt like he was being scrutinized by a predator and he was the very hapless prey.

“Why did you choose to attend Fukurodani?” The other man got straight to the point, crossing his arms and glaring down at Akaashi.

Akaashi blinked at him, unsure of what the tall man was asking.

“I’ve looked up your school history. You received recommendations to both Suzumeoka and Fukurodani. Your personality seems more suited for Suzumeoka.”

Akaashi carefully regarded the other man before he answered honestly. “Since both schools are comparable in academics, I watched both volleyball teams play. And yes, Suzumeoka’s strict and methodical play is more similar to my method of play. But I witnessed an incident at the Spring High preliminaries that made me lose all respect for them.”

“And then when I watched Fukurodani, I saw Bokuto-san play. It was the first time that I saw someone so engrossed in the game. It made me think that he was a star. And so, I thought it would be interesting to play on the same team as him. I have no real ambition beyond that.”

Akaashi’s answer seemed to displease the taller man who scoffed at his response.

“And what about extra practice? Koutarou’s told me that you’re the only one that stays with him to practice late. Are you just going along with it because you think ‘ _he’s a star_ ’?”

Akaashi carefully considered the question. “No, I practice with him because it is fun. Practicing with someone who gives it their all is very satisfying. Up until now, I have only played with people who did just enough to not get into trouble. Not to mention Bokuto-san has been providing me with guidance on jump tosses and serves as well.”

“And it’s not because of Koutarou’s family connections?” Tomoyuki challenged. “Because if you even think to try to use him to get ahead, I’ll crush you like a bug.” Takeru Tomoyuki’s eyes had taken on a feral gleam that caused Akaashi’s blood to run cold.

Despite feeling like he wanted to run far, far away from the terrifying man in front of him, Akaashi held his ground. “I did not know about Bokuto-san’s family connection to the Takeru Group until last Friday when I asked Washio-san why the third-years had such a problem with Bokuto-san. I had noticed the tension when I first joined the club, but as time went on, it seemed to be more than simple jealousy.”

“And if I am being honest,” Akaashi continued, “Bokuto-san’s family connection seems to be hampering him more than helping him at school. It is what caused the third-years to resent him; the special treatment he receives from the school’s administration. And it has also caused the third-years to think that he was given the position of ace because of his connections, not because he is the best player on the team.”

Takeru Tomoyuki cocked his head to the side, much like Bokuto did when he was thinking something over. Except when Tomoyuki did it, he was far more menacing. “Is that so?” he asked with a raised brow. “Still, you did ask Koutarou about his parents. He told me.”

“If Bokuto-san told you that, then he must have told you why asked,” Akaashi pushed back. He knew how talkative the ace was, he was confident that he would have described their entire conversation, although he might have confused some of the details. “I was trying to explain my circumstances to him as a Beta son to Alpha parents.”

“Oh poor you, however do you cope?” Tomoyuki mocked.

Something inside Akaashi snapped. ‘ _Just another damn Alpha, looking down on others because he thinks he’s superior._ ’

“Takeru-san, as a male Alpha from a predominant Alpha family, and as someone who I doubt has ever faced discrimination on the basis of sub-gender, I do not think you are in any position to comment on my circumstances.”

A few moments after he’d uttered the words, a cold chill ran down his spine. He’d let his mouth get the best of him again. And this time in front of an Alpha that made the third-years seem like insignificant little ants.

After a long minute of glaring at Akaashi, Tomoyuki’s aggressive façade suddenly cracked, and the man doubled over in laughter. “Pffft!”

“Oh man, I totally read you wrong!” Tomoyuki gasped out between laughs. “When Kou first started telling me about you, I had you pegged as either a social climber or some poor spineless sap that couldn’t say no.”

Tomoyuki straightened. “And then when we were in your parents’ house you seemed like such a little goody two shoes; I couldn’t understand Kou’s attachment to such a wet rag. But you’ve actually got a spine, and you’re sharp too. Tatsu-kun was right. You’re a peculiar kid with some unconventional ideas but you’re not out to take advantage of Kou.” 

“Tatsu-kun?” Akaashi asked, confused.

“Washio. Washio Tatsuki,” Tomoyuku clarified.

‘ _Oh right,’_ Akaashi had forgotten Washio’s first name from his first day of the club. He made a mental note memorize all of his teammate’s first names.

“Honestly, I shouldn’t have doubted Tastu-kun, he’s a reliable and observant kid after all, but I just had to check for myself. No hard feelings, Akaashi-kun?”

“Ah, no,” Akaashi replied even though he was still irritated with the other man. ‘ _He was just looking out for Bokuto-san. Their family must be the frequent target of social climbers,’_ he thought to himself, trying to dispel his irritation.

 _‘Speaking of Bokuto-san_ ’, Akaashi glanced behind the other man at the car. He choked down a laugh at what he saw, his laugh coming out as a strangled cough.

“What?” Tomoyuki followed Akaashi’s line of sight where Bokuto sat in the passenger seat, his nose and hands pressed up against the passenger-side window, staring intently at them. 

“Fuck, Kou! Get your grubby hands and face off the window, what are you, five?” Tomoyuki barked as he strode towards the car.

“Kou-nii!” Bokuto exclaimed as he exited the car, “You were being mean to Akaashi! You said you wouldn’t be mean to Akaashi!”

“Ah, he’s a big boy, he can take it. Besides, you should thank me for looking out for you!”

Akaashi couldn’t help but laugh at the two large Alphas squabbling in front of him like small children.

The two brothers’ squabbling was interrupted by a loud growl emanating for Tomoyuki’s stomach.

“Well, that’s embarrassing,” Tomoyuki commented, his professional veneer completely dissipated. “Oh shut it! I had to skip breakfast and lunch because of you!” Tomoyuki snapped when Bokuto began to laugh loudly.

“Let’s go get dinner Tomo-nii!” Bokuto replied exuberantly, undeterred by his brother’s irritation.

“Nice try but you’re still in trouble! What kind of message would I be sending if we went out for dinner after this! Although,” Tomoyuki looked back at Akaashi, “I suppose I owe you. Stay here,” he commanded as he strode back to the house.

Akaashi’s mother answered the door and after a quick conversation where Akaashi’s mother smiled a little too widely and answered a little too sweetly, Tomoyuki came striding back. Akaashi’s mother remained in the open doorway, waving at them.

“Get in,” he ordered the two teenagers as he held open the backseat door. “We’re going out to dinner.”

“Woot!” Bokuto hopped into the back.

Akaashi hesitated briefly but climbed in after he realized that his mother would be hysterical if he turned down an invitation from the Takeru family.

“Where should we go” Tomoyuki asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat, pulling off tie and shedding his suit jacket.

“Akaashi likes traditional Japanese food!” Bokuto immediately answered.

Tomoyuki nodded, pulling out into the road. “I know I good place that’s about 20 minutes from here.”

“Do they have grilled meat?” Bokuto asked excitedly.

“Yes, and you’re not getting any. Only tofu, rice and vegetables for you.”

“What?” Bokuto squawked.

“Because you’re being punished.”

“That’s no fair!”

“Do you want me to turn this car around?”

“Fine,” Bokuto slouched in his seat, grumbling to himself.

Akaashi wistfully wondered to himself if his life would be different if he had a sibling.

* * *

Akaashi was surprised when Bokuto’s brother parked his car in a run-down car park and led them to a small restaurant located in a lesser-known shotengai. It was a traditional type restaurant with bar seating along the perimeter of small kitchen where two chefs worked, preparing the food. A traditional noren hanging covered a hall leading back to what Akaashi guessed were the washrooms and the second kitchen. The walls were adorned with hanging placards, listing the dishes on offer and their respective prices. 

“Hey Chef!” Tomoyuki raised his hand in greeting to a balding middle-aged man. “Got room for three?”

“Tomoyuki-kun! Good to see you. That table over there ok?”

“Sure thing,” Tomoyuki replied amicably as he led them to the plain wooden table, Bokuto and his brother sitting on one side and Akaashi on the other.

As they took their seats, Bokuto’s brother smirked at Akaashi. “I bet you were thinking I would choose some posh place downtown?”

“Ah, yes,” Akaashi answered truthfully.

“Those places are all superficial. They lack soul.”

“Oh.”

“Tomo-nii’s hobby is finding places like this that aren’t well known. Whadya call them? Local…?”

“Local gems,” Tomoyuki replied.

A waiter suddenly appeared, as though from thin air, sliding a frosted mug of beer in front of Tomoyuki and two waters in front of Bokuto and Akaashi.

“Thanks, Kato. What does Chef have on special today?”

“Beef tataki with green onion and ponzu dressing. Chef also got his hands some fresh Hokkaido uni at the market this morning and he’s serving it as uni-don.”

Across from him, Bokuto’s eyes grew comically large but kept quiet, seeming to deflate in his seat.

“Thanks Kato, we’ll let you know in a minute. In the meantime, can you ask Chef for some appetizers? Just bring us whatever he recommends.”

“Sure thing, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“See anything you like?” Tomoyuki nodded towards the wall.

Akaashi ran his eyes over the wall, noting the variety of traditional dishes. The beef tataki was tempting, even more so the uni-don but given Bokuto’s reaction, he felt guilty ordering them. As his eyes continued to travel the wall, much to his surprise, he came across one of his favourites.

“Nanohana with karashi dressing. And grilled mackerel with rice and pickles.”

Tomoyuki arched a brow. “Wow, you have traditional tastes.”

“Kou?”

“Agedashi tofu, spinach gomae and rice,” Bokuto answered quietly.

The ignition of a blow torch caught their attention as one of the chefs seared the outside of a slab of beef, no doubt preparing that night’s beef tataki special.

Bokuto sat quietly as he mournfully watched, a dribble of drool dripping down the corner of his mouth, as the chef began to sear another slab of beef.

“Argh!” Tomoyuki groaned as he rubbed his temples. “I can’t stand your moping. Fine, just get whatever you want. I’ll figure out a different punishment later.” 

“Thanks Tomo-nii!” Bokuto enthusiastically hugged his brother, rubbing his cheek against the taller man’s shoulder. “You’re the best Tomo-nii!”

“Ugh, get off” Tomoyuki pushed him away. “No respectable 29-year old can feel happy being scented by an oversized child like you.” Despite his verbal barbs, Tomoyuki reached over and affectionately ruffled his younger brother’s hair causing Bokuto to squawk in protest and fuss with his hair, smoothing it back into its usual peaks.

In the end, Bokuto ended up getting both the beef tataki and uni-don which he offered to share with Akaashi. Akaashi accepted a slice of beef tataki and a bit of the uni and rice. In return, he offered some of his nanohana and mackerel. Bokuto tried some of the mackerel but turned his nose up at the nanohana, declaring that he didn’t understand how Akaashi could like something so bitter. Akaashi responded by telling Bokuto he needed to eat more leafy green vegetables.

Akaashi thought a physical fight was going to erupt when Bokuto swiped a piece of Tomoyuki’s karaage chicken but after a small bout of rough-housing, Tomoyuki displayed his adult-side by ordering another plate of chicken which Bokuto promptly inhaled.

As they were nearing the end of their meal, Bokuto rose from the table, announcing that he was going to the bathroom.

“You must think us childish,” Tomoyuki commented as he took a sip of his beer, eyeing Akaashi with far less intensity than before.

“A little,” Akaashi replied honestly. “But I was mostly thinking that it must be nice to have a sibling.”

Tomoyuki smirked. “You’re pretty blunt, aren’t you? Such an interesting little puzzle you are. Calm, mature and analytical. I thought that you were overly forgiving and docile too, at first, but I think you actually get irritated rather easily, you just hide it well. And you’re anything but docile, you just let people think that you are,” Tomoyuki scoffed with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

Akaashi simply gazed back at the other man, being careful to school his features. _‘He’s good at reading people,_ ’ he concluded.

“At first, I thought you were just tolerating Kou, like some sort of interesting specimen to study. Well, I guess you are studying him in your own way. But, even though it’s hard to tell, you seem to enjoy his company. On paper, you two shouldn’t get along at all, but yet here you are, like two bizarre peas in a pod, diametrically opposed birds of a feather.”

Akaashi shrugged.

“Rendered speechless by my clever metaphors?” Tomoyuki grinned. “I work in marketing, so word-play is my speciality.”

“I would think you would only confuse people with those metaphors,” Akaashi replied blandly.

Tomoyuki threw his head back in laughter.

“Onto a more serious subject,” Tomoyuki turned in his seat, catching the chef’s eye and nodding his head towards the bathroom, before turning back to face Akaashi. “You seemed surprised to hear about Kou’s parents.”

Akaashi nodded solemly. “I didn’t know. Bokuto-san has never mentioned that they’re… no longer here. The second-years mentioned that Bokuto-san lived with you, but they never said anything about Bokuto-san’s parents… unless they don’t know?” 

Tomoyuki shrugged. “I think most if not all of the second-years on the team know. That one kid, the prickly one… Konoha? He knows for sure. Oh, and Tatsu-kun of course.”

“Konoha-san?” Akaashi was genuinely surprised that Tomoyuki had singled out Konoha.

“Yeah, it’s a bit embarrassing, actually. Which actually brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about. There were several incidents that happened last year that got me called into the school for some pretty uncomfortable meetings.”

“Incidents?”

“Yeah,” Tomoyuki sighed, taking a big gulp of his beer. “You see, Kou had this habit of scenting people. And well, poor prickly Konoha was on the receiving end a few times too many. For all his bluster, he’s a really good-hearted kid and I think Kou sensed that and latched onto him.”

Akaashi couldn’t figure where Tomoyuki was going with his story but decided to stay silent and let him continue, uninterrupted.

“You see, my family is primarily responsible for Kou’s habit.”

Tomoyuki paused for a moment, his expression turning sombre.

“Even now, I still remember the day when my mom and dad brought Kou home from the hospital. He was in the backseat of the car, you know, when his parents were killed. He was all bruised and cut-up but he didn’t complain at all, just asked us everyday when his parents were coming home from the hospital. It took almost a month for him to understand that his parents weren’t coming back. And then he just turned into a shell of his former self. I’d only met Kou once or twice before the accident, but I remember Kou being the happiest baby you’d ever seen, nothing but smiles and giggles. It was pretty devastating to see him change so drastically.” 

Tomoyuki sighed, his eyes going distant, as though he was reliving the past. “At first he wouldn’t even cry. My mom guessed that he might be holding in his emotions, because we were strangers and he felt insecure. My mom, she’s always been the touchy feely sort so she made a point of always scenting him and encouraging us siblings to scent him too, to mark him as family, to mark him as ours so he felt like he belonged. And it worked. At first it was tough because he just cried and cried all the time, but eventually he settled down and scenting became our thing. I guess it’s hard to describe to a Beta, and I know there’s a lot of negativity associated with scenting, but for us, it’s a comforting thing. So, Kou learned to associate scenting with comfort and family.”

Akaashi narrowed his eyes. ‘ _As a three-year old, Bokuto-san wouldn’t have been able to detect the pheromones,’_ he thought to himself.

“Ah, smart. You’re wondering how Kou was able to sense our pheromones as a toddler?” Tomoyuki had noticed Akaashi’s skepticism.

“The Takeru family has a unique genetic trait. As long as both parents Alphas, all Takeru children are able to sense pheromones from infanthood. If one of the parents is Beta or Omega, there’s a fifty percent chance that the child will be able to sense pheromones from infanthood, and so on, I’m sure you can do the math.”

“Oh,” Akaashi replied, thinking it over. It made sense, there were genetic anomalies within the sub-genders. _‘It’s probably one of the reasons the Takeru family was a clan family. The genetic trait would give them a unique advantage._ _But…’_

“You look unconvinced,” Tomoyuki commented, glancing over to where Bokuto had emerged from the bathrooms and was beckoned over the to bar seating by the chef. 

“If the trait manifests when both parents are Alphas, why aren’t there more Alphas with this trait? Why is it exclusive to the Takeru family?”

Tomoyuki whistled. “You really are sharp, aren’t you. You’re right, you would expect this trait to be more common. You see, our family’s got a bit of a dark history. In the past, extreme measures were taken to keep our bloodline ‘pure’,” Tomoyuki stated with a grimace. “Marriages were often arranged between distant relatives or not so distant relatives. Or, if an ‘outsider’ Alpha married into the Takeru line, they were forced to cut all ties with their family. Lesser members of the family were forced to marry Betas or Omegas to dilute out the trait so that it couldn’t be passed on through the ‘lesser’ family lines. As you can imagine, this obsession with keeping the bloodline pure led to all sorts headaches, with interbreeding being the least of our problems.”

“Anyways, there’s not much of the Takeru line left and out of necessity, the family’s rules have gotten a lot more lax over the years, otherwise, Kou and I wouldn’t be around today.”

“One of your parents is a so called-outsider?” Akaashi guessed.

“Yeah. My mom for me and Kou’s dad. My dad says that we if still had those draconian rules, my mom would never have accepted his proposal and Kou’s mom would probably have renounced the family and run away to the Americas with Kou’s dad. I don’t remember much about Kou’s mom but I do remember that she was really free-spirited and energetic, constantly jumping from one thing to the next. That’s why our families didn’t see each other that often, she was always jetting around the world on a whim. If I had to guess, I’d say Kou takes after his mom, the kid has way too much energy,” Tomoyuki laughed.

“Anyways, back to my original story, scenting became part of our routine with Kou and it wasn’t a problem until he moved here, to Tokyo. In hindsight, we should have realized it sooner, weaned him off the habit once he got older but, until he moved here, Kou was always getting smothered with affection at home. And then, when he moved here, his safety net was suddenly gone. Because, well,” Tomoyuki coughed uncomfortably, “suddenly it was just the two of us. I’d been away from home for ten years and Kou was a 15 -year old teenager that had presented. Needless to say, it was awkward. He seemed to be fine at first, but then, instinctively, I think, Kou started marking the volleyball club members because in his mind, I think, he considered them a kind of surrogate family.”

“No, none of the current third-years,” Tomoyuki raised his hand at Akaashi’s obvious look of horror. “Mostly that poor kid, Konoha. There were some pretty awkward meetings with his parents and the school’s administration. Trying to explain to them that it’s just a quirky ‘family’ thing and no, Kou was not marking their son as his property or making advances on him,” Tomoyuki laughed sheepishly.

“Thankfully Konoha’s parents were pretty forgiving and we managed to sort it out. After that, Kou mostly weaned himself off that habit but he slips up now and again, like you’ve probably noticed just now.”

Akaashi nodded.

“I think you know why I brought this up?” 

Akaashi nodded again. Inevitably, Tomoyuki had been told that Bokuto had scented him.

“Why didn’t you bring this up at my parents house?”

Tomoyuki sat back and gave him a calculating look. “Seeing as your parents clearly had no idea who Kou was, and that you hadn’t told them anything about your run-ins on Friday, it was a safe bet that you hadn’t told them about being scented. And Tatsu-kun told me that the smiling one… Saru? Yeah, Saru had sprayed you down with neutralizing spray.”

“You’re trying to sweep this under the rug,” Akaashi surmised.

“Yes and no,” Tomoyuki replied easily. “First off,” he raised his index finger, “It’s not something that’s going to come up in tomorrow’s meeting with the school’s directors. Secondly,” Tomoyuki extended his middle finger next, “My guess is that you’d rather your parents not know, given how little you seem to tell them about your life and, thirdly,” he raised his ring-finger, “I sure as hell didn’t want to have yet another awkward meeting explaining that no, my brother did not mark your son as property and no he’s not making advances on your son.”

“And to be completely frank,” Tomoyuki extended his pinky finger, “I didn’t want to bring it up because I couldn’t get a good read on your mother. At first, she seemed like your stereotypical ‘tiger mom’ but something about her interaction with you was odd. And whatever it is, I’m guessing that the root of it goes far deeper than your being a Beta.”

“Oh,” was all Akaashi could say, finding himself flummoxed. _‘Something deeper than the fact that I’m a Beta?’_

“But if you insist that I tell your parents and offer my apologies all over again…”

“No,” Akaashi replied quickly, “that’s not necessary.”

“I thought so,” Tomoyuki grinned. “And just so you know, I didn’t tell you about Kou’s past for you to pity him. He’s not some poor orphan, he’s got a family that dotes on him and he’s doing just fine. I told you because you were owed an explanation and I didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding or false assumptions. You’re the analytical type. You know that inaccurate information leads to faulty conclusions.”

Akaashi nodded, the gears in his mind working as he slotted the new information provided by Bokuto’s brother into the gaps in his knowledge about the Fukurodani ace. As always, he felt a sense of satisfaction whenever he was able to solve a piece of the puzzle, even if it was a small piece.

Tomoyuki leaned forward, with a glint in his eye. “You’re looking pretty satisfied over there.”

Akaashi nodded. “You’ve helped me solve some things that I’d been wondering about.”

“Oh? And what would those things be?” Tomoyuki looked genuinely interested.

“From the day I met him, Bokuto-san has been overly concerned about my leaving the team. And he always wants to know if I’ll be at practice, even though I’ve never missed a single practice until yesterday. I’d heard from Washio-san that Bokuto-san’s middle school teammates would sometimes abandon him during practice and drills. But that seemed like a bit of an overreaction since, as far as I know, his middle school teammates didn’t actually leave the team.”

Tomoyuki hummed in response.

“I’d also wondered why Konoha-san is always concerned about Bokuto-san getting into trouble. He almost treats Bokuto-san like a younger brother. In fact, most of the second-years do the same. And Bokuto-san in turn really seems to really trust Konoha-san and the others. I always thought their closeness and dynamic was a bit unusual, it goes well beyond the typical bonds between teammates or friends.”

“You figured that out, eh? Kou really did luck out with the volleyball members in his year.” Tomoyuki laughed. “That’s ‘ _The Owlery’_ for you.”

“The Owlery?”

“It’s what I call the second-years on the team. A little play on words. Both as Kou’s keepers and as students of Fukurodani. And I should congratulate you as _The Owlery’s_ newest owlet.”

“Owlet?”

“Don’t play dumb, you yourself commented that Kou’s overly concerned with keeping you on the team. Plus, I hear that the second-years, including Tatsu, have all taken you under their wing. And that’s no small feat, Tatsu doesn’t stick his neck out for just anybody. And Kou, in his own way thinks that he’s looking after you although I really suspect it’s the other way around.”

Akaashi mulled that information over. While he was amused by the other’s pun, he wasn’t entirely sure that he liked being called an _owlet_.

“Don’t look so glum, you’ll be a full-fledged owl in no time. Enjoy being the baby while it lasts!”

“Ah, sure.” Akaashi found that his irritation towards Bokuto’s brother had completely dissipated. In fact, he felt himself admiring the taller man. Once he’d shed the polished veneer of a businessman and cynical guardian, Bokuto’s brother was refreshingly straight-forward and his wordplay tickled Akaashi’s literary inclinations. Akaashi guessed that Bokuto’s brother was highly educated and probably held some form of executive or sales position in a top-tier company, mostly likely in a company affiliated with the Takeru Group. Despite his admiration for Tomoyuki, however, Akaashi made a mental note to be wary of him as the other man was disturbingly skilful in reading people.

“Woah!! Gyutan!” Bokuto exclaimed loudly from where he stood, peering over the counter at what the chef was preparing, interrupting Akaashi’s thoughts.

“Looks like Chef is spoiling Kou,” Tomoyuki laughed as he acknowledged the chef with a brief wave.

Bokuto soon arrived back at their table with Chef who presented a dish of grilled beef tongue that had been thinly sliced into five pieces. “On the house,” Chef grinned. “Are you the one who ordered the nanohana karashiae?” he asked, looking down at Akaashi.

“Yes, it was delicious, thank you,” Akaashi bowed to the chef in thanks.

“What sophisticated tastes for a child,” Chef laughed. “You were lucky, nanohana is going out of season and that was the last of my stock.” Chef turned to Bokuto’s brother, “Tomoyuki-kun, you always find the most interesting people.”

“I can’t take credit for this one, Chef, he’s my brother’s find.” 

“Is that so, Koutarou-kun?” the Chef laughed amicably. “It was nice to finally meet you son, your brother’s always talking about you,” with a friendly wave, Chef retreated back to his station behind the counter.

“There’s only five pieces,” Tomoyuki commented. “Akaashi-kun gets two because he’s our guest. And I get two as well because I’m paying.”

“What! No fair!” Bokuto whined. “Tomo-nii~”

Akaashi laughed internally. It seemed like Bokuto reverted to a child when he was with his brother.

“Fine. We’ll wrestle for it.”

“You’re on!” Bokuto beamed, switching seats to sit next to Akaashi, rolling up his sleeves and placing his elbow on the table, extending his hand towards his brother.

Tomoyuki grinned as he also rolled up his sleeves, revealing lean but well muscled arms.

“Akaashi-kun, you can ref,” Tomoyuki instructed as he clasped Bokuto’s hand with his own, much larger hand.

“Grip up,” Akaashi called as the both the brothers tightened their grip. “Go!”

For the first few seconds, the brothers seemed evenly matched until Tomoyuki uttered a grunt of effort and slammed Bokuto’s hand onto the table with relative ease.

“Ha!” Tomoyuki grinned as Bokuto grimaced. “It’s still way too early to think that you can beat me!”

“Reset,” Akaashi called.

“What?” Akaashi was fixed with two pairs of golden eyes, both surprised.

“Tactical foul on the part of Takeru-san,” Akaashi replied evenly.

“Heh,” Tomoyuki grinned.

“What? What did he do?” Bokuto continued to look confused.

Akaashi turned in his seat towards Bokuto and beckoned him to lean in. “Right before I called go, your brother pulled you towards him. That gave him the advantage since it extended your arm and weakened your muscle’s ability to contract. He’s also got the advantage of longer arms which pulls your grip up,” Akaashi spoke lowly. “Once I call go, keep you elbow to the table and pull him towards you and rotate your wrist down and towards you.”

“Got it!” Bokuto nodded vigorously.

“Hey now,” Tomoyuki interjected. “You’re the ref, not a coach!”

Akaashi shrugged. “I could give the win to Bokuto-san by default.”

“No,” Tomoyuki replied with a laugh. “I’ll take the reset. I haven’t really challenged myself in a while.”

“Alright, grip up,” Akaashi called as the brothers clasped their hands once more, attracting the attention of both the staff and the other customers.

“Go!”

Both brothers grunted as they simultaneously pulled the other’s arm, each trying to gain the initial advantage.

“Heh, not bad,” Tomoyuki grinned. “You’ve gotten stronger.”

“I’m gonna beat you this time Tomo-nii!” Bokuto grinned back.

To the great entertainment of the patrons and staff of the restaurant, Bokuto and his brother went back and forth, each seeming to gain the advantage only to lose it mere seconds later.

Soon the restaurant was filled with chants of “Pin him down big brother!” and “You got this little brother!” as the patrons and staff took sides in the match.

Akaashi watched intently, noticing that the brothers were now visibly sweating, tied in a dead heat, both of them evenly matched in arm strength. 

Those supporting Bokuto erupted in cheers when Bokuto regained the advantage and seemed to be holding strong.

For a moment, it looked like Bokuto might prevail over his older brother.

‘ _Ah no,’_ Akaashi realized. ‘ _He’s going to lose,’_ he thought as he watched Tomoyuki tighten his grip and flex his wrist.

“Sorry Kou,” Tomoyuki smirked. “But not today.”

With visible effort and strain, Tomoyuki regained the advantage and began to push the back of Bokuto’s hand closer and closer to the tabletop. Bokuto to his credit held on for as long as he could, seeming to take strength from those cheering for him but his hand inevitably made contact with the table.

“Pin,” Akaashi called, Tomoyuki’s supporters crowing in victory and clinking their beer mugs together.

“It’s okay little brother! You’ll get him next time!” Bokuto’s supporters patted him on the back in consolation.

With a wide grin, Tomoyuki shook the tension out of his right arm before grabbing his chopsticks and made a big show about seizing two slices of the gyutan and popping them in his mouth, making exaggerated noises of pleasure as he chewed.

Akaashi picked up his own chopsticks and picked up a slice of the gyutan before sliding the plate over the Bokuto.

“Hey!” Tomoyuki protested.

“I’m the ref, it’s my call,” Akaashi replied coolly.

Bokuto stuck his tongue out at his brother before devouring the remaining too pieces, the restaurant erupting in laughter at the brothers’ childish antics.

“All right, I think we’ve caused enough trouble for Chef,” Tomoyuki drained the last of his beer and stood up.

“Thanks Chef!” he called as he headed towards the small cash register station near the entrance of the restaurant.

“Anytime!” Chef called back cheerfully. “We should have you two come back for a rematch, we could make an event out of it!”

“Hey,” Bokuto nudged Akaashi. “You’re not objecting to Nii-san treating you.”

“Penalty,” Akaashi replied simply.

Bokuto grinned in understanding.

* * *

“Do you guys want some taiyaki?” Tomoyuki asked them when the emerged outside, the shotengai having come to life as the sky had darkened. “There’s a stand down that way that makes it fresh.”

“Ah, sure,” Akaashi replied.

“Woohoo!” Bokuto hooted, jumping from foot to foot, still full of energy despite his arduous arm wrestling match. “Taiyaki!”

Tomoyuki laughed as he led them down the street, stretching out his right arm as he walked. “Man, I need to up my routine at the gym. I can’t believe I almost lost to my brat of a younger brother.”

“Bring it!” Bokuto declared. “I’m gonna get stronger too! And next time I’m gonna beat you!” Bokuto flexed his arm, patting his bicep.

“If you plan on winning Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interjected. “You need work on strengthening your grip and wrist strength.”

“Eh?” Bokuto cocked his head to the side.

“You and your brother are evenly matched in arm strength. Your brother won because he has greater grip and wrist strength.”

“Is that true Tomo-nii?”

“Pesky little owlet, giving away all my secrets,” Tomoyuki muttered before ruffling Bokuto’s hair once more. “Yeah, it’s true. You really lucked out Kou, you got yourself quite the formidable little setter.”

“I know! But how do you know that Tomo-nii? You haven’t even seen him play yet!” 

“Because sports isn’t all about strength and skill, it’s about strategy too, something that you could work on.”

“I know, I know,” Bokuto grumbled before he turned to the setter. “Hey Akaashi, why do you know so much about arm wrestling?”

“I don’t,” Akaashi replied. “I merely made some observations based on physiology and physics.”

“Oh,” Bokuto’s expression darkened at the mention of physics. “That’s almost worse than math.”

Tomoyuki laughed again, his laughter echoing down the street.

They reached the tiny taiyaki stand, manned by single elderly lady with deep set wrinkles. “Three fresh taiyaki,” Tomoyuki ordered, handing over three 500-yen coins.

“Hey Tomo-nii, are you gonna come watch us in the Kanto Regionals? They’re at the end of this month!” Bokuto asked as they watched the old woman spoon batter onto the heated fish-shaped molds, adding a dollop of sweetened red bean paste before she spooned more batter and flipped the opposing grill plate over, enclosing the mixture to cook.

“Hmm,” Tomoyuki feigned thought. “I dunno. If it were basketball I’d be there in heartbeat…”

“Tomo-nii~!” Bokuto whined. “Why do you keep bringing that up?!”

“Did you play basketball Takeru-san?” Akaashi asked, starting to piece things together.

Tomoyuki nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah from middle-school and through university. I still play as part of a rec league when I have the time.”

‘ _That explains his grip and wrist strength_ , Akaashi concluded. ‘ _He has all the physiological advantages for the sport too, with his large hands and long limbs.’_

“Tomo-nii’s being modest,” Bokuto bragged. “He was on the U19 National Team and was named League MVP 3 times during university!”

“Ah, the good old days before I tore my ACL. And to add insult to injury, this brat had to go and break my heart by picking up volleyball,” Tomoyuki announced dramatically.

“Tomo-nii~” Bokuto grumbled. “You have to come. Akaashi will be playing too!” 

“I won’t be playing,” Akaashi replied without emotion. “Tsukamoto-senpai will be playing. He’s a third-year and the more experienced setter.

Bokuto scowled. “But-”

“Is that so,” Tomoyuki mused, accepting the three taiyaki from the elderly lady with thanks and handing them out, cutting Bokuto off before he could begin his tirade.

“The only way to cure lack of experience is to play in more matches. And I think you’ll be playing in official matches sooner than you think, Akaashi-kun,” Tomoyuki told Akaashi evenly, looking him dead in the eye. “You should brace yourself.”

“That’s what I keep saying!” Bokuto agreed, completely missing his brother’s ominous message.

* * *

The car ride back to his parents’ house was relatively quiet, Bokuto having fallen asleep five minutes into the ride.

“He’s still such a baby,” Tomoyuki chuckled, glancing at Bokuto’s sleeping form in the rear-view mirror. “Some days I think that I must have a screw loose because even now, I think of him my cute little baby brother and can’t help but spoil him.”

Akaashi nodded. It was clear that Tomoyuki doted on Bokuto. And though they were technically cousins, it was clear that Tomoyuki and Bokuto didn’t make that distinction. To them, they were brothers, plain and simple. No technicality was going to change that fact.

All too soon, they were pulling up to his parents' house and Akaashi steeled himself for the interrogation he was sure to face from his mother.

“Akaashi-kun,” Akaashi met Tomoyuki’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. “I think you’ve already realized that things are going to get tough these next few days, maybe even weeks. Hang in there and don’t be afraid to rely on the Owlery. Even Kou can be dependable in his own way.”

Akaashi nodded. He’d already recognized that there was bound to be fall out from the meeting of the school’s directors scheduled to take place the next day.

“Thank you for the meal,” Akaashi bowed as he got out of the car, closing the door softly.

“My pleasure,” Tomoyuki rolled down his window. “I look forward to seeing you play at the Regionals. Good night, _owlet_ ,” he smirked before driving away.

Akaashi watched him drive away until he could no longer see the car’s lights. He took a deep breath and then another before walking up to his parents’ house, the front door opening before he could reach it.

“Welcome home, Keiji.”

“I’m home, mother.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!! 
> 
> I said the next update would be soon but I bet you didn't expect it to be this soon! Honestly I neglected RL a bit too much to finish the chapter but the creative juices were flowing...
> 
> So yes, I gave Bokuto a sad backstory but it needed to be done, for the sake of the story. Sorry! And really, he's just fine, like his brother said. 
> 
> Lots of Japanese traditions in this one, hopefully I was able to describe them well. (i.e. calling before visiting, gift-giving, the expected pleasantries etc.)
> 
> Thank you again for all the wonderful comments! They are the fuel that keeps me going! I also appreciate all of you that continue to read as I post each new chapter. 
> 
> Also, I seem to have confused a lot of you with my last author's note. I think it would be more accurate to say that this story takes place in two parts. One during highschool and the other post time-skip. What I meant to say is that the post time-skip story wouldn't make sense without the high school arc. Eh.. I feel like I just made it more confusing? lol. 
> 
> Next update will not be nearly as quick. Sorry! I need to get back to the stuff I've been neglecting for the past couple of days. 
> 
> Cheers. 
> 
> ~Mari


	9. Upheaval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of the previous week bubble over into a bigger affair, leading to serious repercussions for Fukurodani's volleyball club.

Akaashi sat quietly at his desk during a break between classes, reviewing the class materials from last Saturday. Although he did his best to focus, the urge to sleep kept pulling at his eyelids, making it difficult.

Once he’d returned to his parents’ house, his mother had grilled him for hours about Bokuto and his brother. She was both ecstatic and mortified that Akaashi had formed a connection with such an illustrious family. Ecstatic because Akaashi had become friends with a member of the Takeru family, mortified because Akaashi was entirely ignorant of the illustrious connection he had made.

After being lectured about the need to be more cognizant of social connections, his mother had lamented for nearly an hour about how humiliated she felt about being so caught off guard by Takeru Tomoyuki’s visit and her embarrassment at appearing clueless in front of him.

Once she had finished her lament, she had pressed him for information about the family, bombarding him with question after question. Every now and then, there was a break between her questions where she would ramble off on some tangent about how prestigious the family was, coming up with her own theories and dramatically sighing in envy, saying how easy life would as a member of a prestigious Alpha family.

By the end of the evening Akaashi was wishing that his mother would return her previous state of apathy, the state where she barely acknowledged his existence.

Akaashi was finally released from his torture by his father who pointed out that it was nearing midnight and Akaashi had school the next day.

Akaashi wasted no time retreating to his room but, unable to fall asleep, he pulled a novel from his shelf, _Kafka on the Shore_ , and did his best to forget the past few hours.

If Akaashi was forced to describe his mother that night, he could only think of one word. _Manic_.

Akaashi was pulled out of his reverie by excited chattering of his classmates who were congregated around the windows.

“Oh my god _who_ is that? He’s so handsome~.”

“That other guy looks scary!”

“Haha, look at the vice-principal! What a loser.”

“There’s some awkward looking geezer too. Hahaha! Is he lost?”

“Do you think this has something to do with the school’s directors showing up early this morning?”

Unable to contain his curiosity, Akaashi joined his classmates at the window and looked down towards the entrance of school.

He immediately identified Takeru Tomoyuki who stood a full head taller than everyone else and strode purposely towards the school. Next to him was a severe looking man with gray hair, wire-rimmed glasses, an immaculately pressed-suit and a briefcase. The vice-principal followed them, frantically jogging to keep up, repeatedly bowing as he tried to engage the two men in conversation. Akaashi’s father brought up the rear with a middle-aged couple Akaashi didn’t recognize, clearly looking and feeling out of place.

 _‘They’re here for the meeting with the school’s directors,’_ Akaashi thought, a nervous pit forming in his stomach.

* * *

_A subject matter that often doesn’t get addressed is that of the social standing and roles of Betas, both historically and in today’s society. This is because there is a societal underpinning that views Betas as the ‘neutral’ or the ‘ordinary’ sub-gender. Many theorize that this societal view stems from the belief that Betas are not advantaged or disadvantaged when it comes to their sub-gender._

_In fact, historically, Betas have been referred to as the ‘The Neutrals’ because they are, for the most part, unaffected by pheromones released by both Alphas and Omegas._

_Little history has been recorded about Betas following the events of Calamitas I. There are records indicating that Betas suffered discrimination as the sub-gender with the lower-fertility rate, with the Alpha and Omega sub-genders being the desired sub-gender for the purposes of procreation. Some archaeologists theorize, based on DNA studies and genealogies, that there may have been laws forbidding Alphas and Omegas from pairing with Betas, which is not unsurprising as the goal of the Omega Project was to save the human population from extinction._

_The history of Alphas and Omegas has, understandably, been the focus given that these two sub-genders were the center of much of historical and social strife, most notably with the severe oppression of the Omega sub-gender. The question raised now, by historians, is whether the Betas were complicit in the oppression of Omegas or whether they too were also subject to their own form of oppression or discrimination._

_Some theorize that, yes, Betas also faced their own form of discrimination, although less overt. Betas were considered the ‘workhorses’ of the population with the highest level of employment within the three sub-genders. If you look at the type of employment, however, you notice that until very recently, very few Betas had occupied positions higher than lower management. Even now, you see very few Betas in high level positions. Of course, there are even fewer Omegas in such positions._

_Certain professions, as well, were held exclusively by Betas. For example, Omega health care providers were all Betas so that their health care providers would not be ‘swayed’ by their pheromones. The management of these health care providers, however, was overseen exclusively by Alphas._

_So, the question is: were Betas passive participants in the oppression of Omegas? Or were they too victims of the unjust hierarchical system created following the events of Calamitas I and Calamitas II?_

_Many theologist postulate that Betas can be described as the ‘overlooked’ sub-gender. That most do not turn their minds to the societal standing of Betas because they are viewed as ‘neutral’, a non-factor. Therefore any discrimination they may have perpetrated or been victim of is not recoded and studied. And…_

The teacher’s lecture was interrupted by a sharp rapping at the classroom door.

“Yes?” Akaashi’s teacher answered, moving towards the door.

The classroom door slid open to reveal the principal’s stern-faced secretary. She spoke in clipped, hushed tones with Akaashi’s teacher.

“Akaashi-kun, your presence is required at the principal’s office,” his teacher announced, resulting in shocked murmurings spreading through the classroom. “You can come collect the class notes from me after classes. I’ll have them ready for you in the staff room.” 

Akaashi did his best to tune out the excited murmurings of his classmates as he carefully stowed away his books and pencils and rose to follow the stern-faced secretary to the principal’s office.

As he headed towards the principal’s office, he saw three figures coming their way. He quickly recognized Sarukui and the middle-aged couple he had seen walking with his father. Seeing their features up close, Akaashi quickly discerned that they were Sarukui’s parents. Sarukui’s parents glanced towards him before sharing a hushed whisper between them and looking back at him with an odd look in their eyes.

 _‘Sympathy?’_ Akaashi thought to himself. ‘ _No more like pity…’_

Just as they passed him, and out of the secretary’s field of vision, Sarukui reached out quickly and patted Akaashi on the shoulder.

Akaashi turned back towards Sarukui who glanced back at him over his shoulder with a wan smile and a small thumbs up before turning away as he continued to follow his parents.

Akaashi wasn’t surprised to see that his father already seated in the principal’s office. What surprised him was the presence of the two suit-clad men with detective badges affixed to their belts. One stood at attention next to the principal’s desk while the other sat slouched in a chair in the corner of the room with a bored expression on his face. 

“Akaashi-kun, come in, have a seat,” the aging principal waved him into the office from behind his imposing desk, pointing at the empty chair next to his father.

“Yes sir,” Akaashi took a seat next to his father who looked unusually somber. Akaashi had only ever seen the principal once before, at entrance ceremony for the first years. The principal was a deceptively small man with a demanding presence. At the entrance ceremony he had walked with a cane, his back hunched with age. Gauging from the man’s sharp eyes, however, Akaashi guessed that while his body might be failing him, his mind was not.

“A troubling matter has been brought to my attention. When Takeru-kun contacted me yesterday, I thought it would be best to have the authorities involved,” the principal gestured to the two suit-clad men. “We’ve already spoken with Sarukui-kun and his parents, we’d now like to hear from you about what happened Friday night.”

 _‘Oh,’_ Akaashi felt a pit of dread settle in his stomach. He’d expected some sort of administrative intervention on the part of the school, but he hadn’t imagined that the police would get involved. ‘ _Takeru-san said he raised the issue with the local authorities, but I didn’t expect them to start an investigation…’_ And from what he could tell from their attire and attitude, Akaashi guessed that these detectives weren’t from the local police branch.

“I’m Detective Motoyama and this is my colleague, Detective Shigemori,” the standing detective stepped forward, flipping open a notebook. His three-piece suit was crisply pressed and his black hair was gelled and brushed back neatly. The other detective, Detective Shigemori, remained seated in his seat, scratching idly at his ruddy five o’clock shadow. Based on the detective’s facial hair and crumpled-looking suit, Akaashi guessed that the detective had worked through the night and was nearing or had passed the end of his shift.

“Just to confirm, you are Akaashi Keiji, date of birth December 5, currently 15 years old?”

Akaashi nodded. “Yes.”

“And you are a first-year member of the school’s volleyball club?”

“Yes.”

“And Sarukui Yamato, second-year, is your teammate?”

“Yes.”

“And on the evening of last Friday, June 4th, following volleyball practice, you and Sarukui Yamato left school together to walk to the train station?”

“Yes.”

“And did you encounter anyone on your way to the station?”

“A few passers by,” Akaashi replied carefully. “We also met some of the third-years from the club a few blocks from the station.”

“Elaborate,” the detective’s command was curt.

“Tsukamoto-san, Nagai-san and Okano-san.”

The detective flipped through his notes. “This would be Tsukamoto Seiichi, Nagai Kunihiko and Okano Shinichi?”

Akaashi nodded, “Yes I believe so.”

“You believe?” the second detective spoke up for the first time, an eyebrow raised. While Detective Shigemori had maintained his slouched position, Akaashi had noticed that his grey eyes had sharpened as soon as his partner had begun interviewing him, watching him sharply while feigning disinterest. With his deep red hair colour and dominating aura, Akaashi had concluded that the second detective was likely a prominent Alpha.

 _‘Detective Motoyama is the one leading the interview but Detective Shigemori is likely the one in charge. And with his unique colouring, he’s also probably from a dominant Alpha lineage.’_ Akaashi carefully catalogued these thoughts as he answered the detective’s question. 

“I am not sure of their first names. I believe those are their first names, but I cannot answer definitively,” Akaashi replied as neutrally as possible.

“Hmpf,” the second detective drawled lazily. “I take it you aren’t close with them?”

“Ahem,” the first detective cleared his throat. “And what happened when you met the third years you just mentioned?”

“We had a discussion… that ended in a… disagreement,” Akaashi chose his words carefully as he watched the second detective out of the corner of his eyes. He suspected that the detective’s lazy and offhand attitude was an act; that the detective was paying close attention to what was being said.

“A disagreement?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all?” the detective flipped through his notebook. “In his stament, Sarukui-kun stated that there was a violent altercation. He states you were forcibly grabbed by Tsukamoto Seiichi, in proximity to your neck and that he was physically restrained by Okano Shinichi and Nagai Kunihiko.”

Akaashi nodded reluctantly.

“Would you care to elaborate Akaashi-kun?” the second detective joined in once more, his posture shifting slightly, alerting Akaashi to the fact that the man was more scrutinizing him closely. 

“Tsukamoto-san did grab me by my shirt collar and I did see Okano-san and Nagai-san pull Sarukui-san back when he tried to intervene.”

“And what was the cause of this ‘ _disagreement’_?” the first detective probed.

Noticing that he had started to fidget with his hands, he closed them into tight fists. “The third-years felt I was not being respectful to them.”

“Anything else?”

Akaashi grit his teeth. He considered staying silent but reflecting back on the pitying look Sarukui’s parents had given him, Akaashi guessed that Sarukui had informed the detectives that Tsukamoto had brought up the fact that he was a Beta and undeserving of a spot on the team because of his sub-gender. At least that was the only thing Akaashi could think that the detectives were trying to prompt from him. Even so, Akaashi was still puzzled as to the detective’s involvement, small scuffles only warranted the attention of local police, if that.

“Tsukamoto-san said that I should know my place as a Beta. He accused me of trying to steal his position as starting setter.”

“Are you?” the second detective probed. “Trying to take his position that is.”

“No,” Akaashi replied evenly. “I believe Tsukamoto-san is better suited to being the starting setter. He is very skilled and has more in-game experience than I do.”

“Hmm,” the second detective replied in response. “You’re very deliberate with your word-choice, aren’t you, Akaashi-kun?”

Akaashi didn’t respond. It was clear that the second detective was attempting to rattle him. Whether it was because he was testing his credibility by trying to get a rise out of him or just that the detective didn’t like him, Akaashi had yet to figure out.

The first detective shot the second detective an annoyed look. “Your account mostly matches with Sarukui-kun’s story.” He flipped through his notebook. “According to Sarukui-san, you weren’t being disrespectful to the third-years.”

Akaashi fought down the urge to shrug. “The third-years were upset that I addressed them as ‘senpai’ instead of ‘san’.”

The first detective nodded, clearly having heard the same from Sarukui.

“How did the ‘ _disagreement’_ ”, the first detective used Akaashi’s own term, “end?”

“Washio-san,” Akaashi paused and corrected. “Washio Tatsuki, a second-year from our club interrupted our… _disagreement._ ”

“Interrupted how?”

Akaashi considered his answer carefully, unsure of where the detective was leading him. “Washio-san happened to come across us after his college prep class.”

“So, he ended the confrontation simply by showing up?”

“Detective,” Akaashi’s father spoke up for the first time. “You know full well that my son is a Beta and is unable to answer your question.”

“Your son is a smart boy,” the second detective answered, “I’m sure he was able to put two and two together. Besides, even Betas are able to sense high levels of pheromones.”

“So, Akaashi-kun,” the first detective continued. “How did Washio Tatsuki end the _disagreement_?”

Akaashi took a deep breath. “I believe he released pheromones in response to the third-years. According to Sarukui-san, Washio-san’s pheromones were defensive, but as a Beta, I couldn’t tell you. And,” Akaashi added, sensing what the detectives were getting at, “I believe Washio-san was only reacting to the aggressive pheromones being released by the third-years.”

“And why do you believe this?” the second detective probed.

Akaashi chose his next words carefully, sensing that the second detective was not the disheveled, washed-out detective he was portraying himself to be.

“I believe the third-years were releasing incredibly aggressive pheromones because of Saruki-san’s response. To me, he looked like he was in pain. This was before he was grabbed by Okano-san and Nagai-san. And the air around us… felt very heavy, like a fog. At the time I didn’t realize why the air felt so heavy and oppressive, but reflecting back on it, I believe it was because the third years were releasing aggressive pheromones against Sarukui-san and I. But like I said, I couldn’t say for sure. As for Washio-san, I believe he released defensive pheromones in defense of both myself and Sarukui-san based on the reaction of the third-years and what Sarukui-san said.”

“And what did Sarukui say?”

“He said that Washio-san’s pheromones were defensive.”

“Hmm,” the first detective flipped his notebook shut. “Matches up with what Sarukui said.”

The second detective nodded. “It matches up with what Washio reported to us on Sunday as well.”

‘ _They’ve already interviewed Washio-san?’_ Akaashi thought with surprise. 

“I take it that you are done with questioning Akaashi-kun?” the principal spoke up, taking Akaashi by surprise. He had almost forgotten the elderly man’s presence given his silence through the detective’s questions. 

“I think we’ve just about covered everything and its time for us to come clean,” the second detective rose from his slouched position, standing at his full height and staring down at Akaashi and his father. “Motoyama-kun wasn’t entirely forthright when he introduced us earlier. We’re actually detectives from the _Sub-gender Crimes Unit._ Well, to be completely truthful, I’m the head of the upper Tokyo division and Motoyama-kun is one of the detectives under my direction.” 

‘ _So he’s actually the one in charge,’_ Akaashi thought to himself, confirming his earlier suspicion. ‘ _And they were after the sub-gender angle.’_

“Oh…” Akaashi’s father spoke up. “Pardon me but why is your division involved? I don’t believe there was an Omega involved in Friday’s incident…”

“Ah, right,” the second detective smiled wryly, as though he was asked this question often. “It’s a common misconception that our division only investigates crimes against Omegas. We actually investigate all crimes that are sub-gender motivated. I admit sub-gender motivated acts of aggression against Betas are rare, but this might be one of those cases.”

“Oh,” Akaashi noticed that his father was clearly taken aback by the detective’s announcement. “I didn’t realize. But surely this was just a disagreement among clubmates? Don’t you think this matter might be getting blown out of proportion?”

Silently Akaashi agreed with his father. Although he disliked the third years and felt threatened by the events of Friday, he didn’t think it warranted it police intervention.

‘ _Although,’_ he corrected himself. ‘ _I’m not sure what would have happened if Washio-san hadn’t shown up…’_

“You’re right Akaashi-san,” the principal spoke up once more. “This was not an incident that would ordinarily require the involvement of the Sub-gender Crimes Division but Detective Shigemori is a former student of mine and I called on him for a favour. As we discussed during our meeting earlier today, the school takes all maters of violence among students incredibly seriously, especially when it involves students from different grades and sub-genders. We pride ourselves on being an inclusive school and we have zero-tolerance for violent acts and especially when the use of pheromones is involved.”

“This isn’t an investigation by your division then?” Akaashi’s father asked.

“Not quite,” the second detective smiled wryly. “We apologize for the subterfuge, but the principal wanted to send a message to the students and the teachers. We also find that people are more truthful when they believe they’re being interviewed as part of a formal investigation. And we wanted to be sure that it wasn’t actually an incident that warranted a formal investigation.”

“Oh,” Akaashi’s father replied numbly, looking uncomfortable.

“So, what are your thoughts Motoyama-kun?” Detective Shigemori asked conversationally, as though the two were back at their offices and not in in a high school principal’s office.

Detective Motoyama threw a quick glance towards Akaashi and his father as well as the principal before he answered carefully. “Obviously we still need to interview the third-years in question but my guess is that they will deny that the incident ever happened or claim that it was all a misunderstanding.”

The detective flipped through his notebook. “Based on our interviews with Washio-kun, Sarukui-kun and Akaashi-kun, while there may have been some sub-gender issues present in the _disagreement_ , it doesn’t appear that Akaashi-kun was targeted specifically because of his sub-gender. It looks more likely that the _disagreement_ was tension over who would achieve a regular starting position on the team, making it a school matter. That being said, there is still the matter that the third-years involved did purposively employ their pheromones as a way to intimidate and perhaps even attack Akaashi-kun and Sarukui-kun. You may want to liaise with the youth division of the local precinct, but, given their ages and the fact that no injuries were suffered, they are unlikely to recommend any formal action.”

The second detective nodded in agreement and shot a look towards Akaashi’s father. “That will be my recommendations as well, unless you have any objections Akaashi-san?”

Akaashi felt his father gaze on him but he stubbornly kept his gaze anchored to the floor, hoping his father would understand that he wanted to leave the incident with the third-years behind him. 

“Ah no, I have no objections,” Akaashi’s father answered after a brief pause. “Honestly, from what my son has told me, it was a disagreement among club members that got a little out of hand. Afterall, it’s not uncommon for teenage boys to fight from time to time. 

Internally, Akaashi thanked his father even though he knew that his father was not completely convinced of his own words but was attempting to end things in a conciliatory manner. Akaashi was similar to his father in that way, in that he preferred to take the path of least resistance.

“Very well,” Fukurodani’s aging principal sighed. “Sarukui Yamato’s family also indicated that they had no interest in having Motoyama-kun pursue the matter. As we discussed earlier, however, we will be pursuing this matter internally and rest assured, we take these matters very seriously.”

“Thank you principal, we appreciate you taking the time,” Akaashi’s father replied with a bow as he prepared to leave.

Akaashi suppressed his sigh of relief when he and his father were finally dismissed from the principal’s office.

“Well, that was different,” Akaashi’s father sighed heavily after they had descended the three down three flights of stairs to the lobby of the school in complete silence. “I never imagined that I would ever get called into a meeting like that…”

“I’m sorry father,” Akaashi apologized sincerely. ‘ _Father has never expected that he would be called into a disciplinary matter.’_

“You misunderstand Keiiji,” Akaashi’s father. “I’m not upset with you. From what I’ve heard, this wasn’t you fault. No, I meant…” Akaashi’s father seemed to cast about for the right words. “Well, I never imagined we would be caught up in Alpha politics…”

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi could only apologize once more.

“It’s fine Keiiji,” Akaashi’s father sighed again. “But you need to be more careful. I know we haven’t really talked about it but…” Akaashi’s father seemed to struggle to find the right words.

“There are disadvantages to being a Beta.” Akaashi finished for his father.

“Yes,” Akaashi’s father sighed. “Things are a lot better than they used to be but the world can still be an unfair place.”

“I know father,” Akaashi replied.

“I’m sorry Keiiji.”

Akaashi could only look at his father in bewilderment. ‘ _Why is he apologizing?’_

“I should get going,” Akaashi’s father looked at his watch. “I have to get back to the office, I need to be back by before 1 pm. And you need to eat your lunch.”

“Yes father, thank you for taking time out of your day to deal with this,” Akaashi replied dutifully, playing the role of the good son.

Akaashi watched as his father left he school grounds in a hurry, sighing heavily and returning to his classroom where the lunch hour had already started. He quietly made his way to his desk and opened up the lid, retrieving his lunch while carefully avoiding all eye contact with his classmates and remaining as unobtrusive as possible.

Just as Akaashi was about to beat a hasty retreat to his lunch-time hideout, a hush fell over the classroom and he was faced with twenty-six pairs of curious eyes. The hushed silence only last for a second before he was bombarded with questions.

“Why were you called to the principal’s office?”

“Did you just get back?”

“Does it have anything to do with the board meeting this morning?”

“Are you in trouble?”

Akaashi was at a loss on how to reply and was trying to come up with an excuse to leave when he felt an arm drape over his shoulders.

“Sorry guys, we need to borrow Akaashi here,” Konoha grinned from next to him. “You guys can catch with him up later.”

“Yep, very important volleyball club busines!” Komi affirmed, also suddenly popping on Akaashi’s other side. “See ya, first years!”

Akaashi allowed himself to be steered out of his classroom, grateful to be able to escape from the clutches of his curious classmates.

‘ _Although I will have to face them after lunch,_ ’ Akaashi sighed internally. ‘ _And no doubt Konoha-san and Komi-san will have lots of questions.’_

“You look like shit,” Konoha commented as he steered them down the hall. “Those are some pretty dark circles under your eyes.”

“The ballad of Akaashi the zombie first-year, whose brains will he eat next?” Komi snickered.

Akaashi noticed belatedly that they were steering him towards the library.

“Bokuto told us about your little hidey-hole,” Konoha announced as they walked past the surprised librarian and out to the small rooftop patio. “He can’t come today because he’s getting a head-start on his detention with Kanazawa-sensei.”

Akaashi was surprised to see Sarukui already sitting against the railing. “Looks like you survived,” Sarukui smiled.

“Yes,” Akaashi nodded, sitting down next to the perpetually smiling second year who was unwrapping the furoshiki around his lunchbox.

Akaashi shrugged and opened his plastic conbini bag, pulling out the first of his three onigiri.

“Milk? What are you, five?” Konoha scoffed at Komi. “Since when do you drink milk?”

“It makes you grow taller,” Komi declared, brandishing a small carton of milk.

“Says who?” Konoha asked as he pulled the wrapper off his katsu chicken sandwich.

“People,” Komi muttered, sucking milk up through his straw.

“Were you looking after your cousins again?” Sarukui laughed good-naturedly. “Seiji and I watched last night’s _Crayon Shin-chan_ episode too, the one where one of the characters drinks milk to get taller.”

“Like I said, what are you, five?” Konoha paused. “You too Saru. That’s a cute lunchbox ya got there.”

Akaashi glanced over at Sarukui who had finished unwrapping the furoshiki around his lunch box to reveal a cute panda bento box.

“Oops,” Sarukui laughed. “My mom must have gotten our lunch boxes mixed up this morning.” He popped open the bento to reveal octopus sausages, omelette rolls, cherry tomatoes and rice.

“Very cute,” Komi agreed with a wide grin. “Here,” he offered a second carton of milk to Sarukui. “I’ll trade ya for an octopus.”

“Keep it, you’re the short one,” Sarukui smirked.

Komi stuck his tongue out at him before he snagged a cocktail sausage from Sarukui’s lunch and popped it into his mouth.

“So, did you get interviewed by those detectives too?” Konoha asked Akaashi around a mouthful of sandwich.

Akaashi simply nodded as he took another bite of his first onigiri.

“It was pretty intense, wasn’t it?” Sarukui commented.

“Yes,” Akaashi replied simply.

“I’ll bet,” Komi commented as he opened up his combini bento and began eating with great gusto. “What’d they wanna know?”

“They wanted to know what happened Friday night with the third-years.”

“What creeps! They must have hidden themselves well for us to not see them on our way to the station,” Konoha grumbled.

“Yeah, if we had seen ‘em we woulda given you guys a heads up or stuck around.” Komi agreed. “What do ya thinks gonna happen?”

Sarukui shrugged. “Not sure. I don’t think they’ve decided yet. Unless you know something different?” Sarukui looked towards Akaashi.

Akaashi shook his head.

“They must be taking it pretty seriously right? I mean, the police were called! And those weren’t just local koban police either, right Saru? You said they were detectives from some elite unit?”

“Yeah,” Sarukui answered, “but they were there…” he trailed off and glanced at Akaashi once more.

“They’re here informally and they likely won’t be taking any action,” Akaashi replied, answering Sarukui’s unspoken question.

“Well that sucks,” Konoha commented, “I was hoping those pricks would get their asses handed to them.”

“They’ll be suspended right?” Komi added.

“They’d better be, it’d be royally fucked up if they didn’t get hit with something worse than suspension considering what happened to Washio.”

Akaashi sat up at straighter at the mention of Washio’s name. “What happened to Washio-san?”

“You didn’t’ hear?” Sarukui looked genuinely surprised. “He’s been suspended.”

“Suspended? Why?” Akaashi asked, shocked. “He didn’t do anything wrong!”

Sarukui sighed. “Washio got suspended because used his pheromones against the third-years.”

A feeling of cold dread travelled down Akaashi’s spine. “I didn’t realize… when they asked, I didn’t think it would get Washio-san in trouble.”

“It’s fine Akaashi,” Sarukui waved his concern away. “Washio already admitted to using his pheromones. He’s the one who reported the incident.”

 _‘Washio-san reported the incident? I would have thought it was Konoha-san or Sarukui-san…”_ Akaashi thought to himself.

“I still don’t understand why Washio-san is in trouble? Wasn’t he was just trying to help us? And things might have been a lot worse for us if he hadn’t intervened?”

“Because,” Sarukui replied with a frown, “according to the school, Washio should have alerted the school or contacted the local police rather than ‘ _taking matters into his own hands_ ’.”

“What?” Akaashi was dumbfounded.

“We’re only supposed to use our pheromones, even if it is defensively, as a last resort,” Sarukui replied with a shrug. “The school decided we weren’t in immediate danger so Washio shouldn’t have _resorted_ to using his pheromones.” 

“But why has this been made into such a big issue? Isn’t this type of thing common among young Alphas? In my middle school there were some Alphas that lost control of their pheromones but it never became as big an issue as this…” Akaashi replied, thinking back to the time that young Alpha students had gotten into scuffles.

“Yeah, now that Akaashi’s mentioned it, fights among Alphas weren’t uncommon in my middle school either, especially around the time they presented,” Konoha added.

Sarukui smiled wryly. “We get a bit of a pass when we’re younger, but by the time we hit high school we’re expected to be in control of our pheromones. I guess for Alphas that present later, they’re given a bit of a grace period. But there was really no excuse for the third-years. As far as I know, the third years presented back in middle-school.”

“Hey Saru, are pheromones that hard to control?” Komi asked curiously.

“No,” Saruki smiled good-naturedly. “It’s a bit rough right around the time of presentment when our hormones are all off balance but it’s no harder than keeping your temper in check or stopping yourself from saying something rude. I guess they can be a bit harder to control when you’re in the presence of other strong Alpha or Omega pheromones.”

“But I mean, if Bokuto can control his pheromones…” Konoha looked towards Sarukui for confirmation.

“Yeah, I’ve never sensed him have a flare-up or anything, even when he gets frustrated or is in the presence of others’ pheromones. That’s actually kinda odd,” Sarukui looked contemplative. “And what happened Friday wasn’t the third-years losing control over their pheromones, the third-years were purposefully releasing their pheromones to affect us. That takes a lot of conscious effort. Just like how Washio purposefully released his pheromones in response, as a counter. That’s why the school is making such a big deal about all of this.”

 _Tatsu doesn’t stick his neck out for just anybody_. Takeru Tomoyuki’s words echoed in Akaashi’s mind.

“Huh,” Komi commented, his usual joking nature turned temporarily serious, “I forgot that you Alphas can release pheromones on purpose. I guess it’s because you, Washio and Bokuto are so easy-going.” 

“ _You Alphas_?” Sarukui repeated with his good-natured smirk. “I’m hurt.”

“Yeah, well,” Konoha grinned. “You’re outnumbered right now…”

“I don’t know why I decided to be best friends with a _couple of Betas_ ,” Sarukui laughed.

“We’re awesome and you know it!”

“If you say so,” Saruki popped an omelette roll into his mouth.

“Uh oh, here comes trouble,” Komi exclaiming, peering through the railings at the school entrance-way where a black limousine had pulled up.

“Looks like Tsukamoto’s father’s here,” Konoha scoffed. “Cue the fireworks.”

“I take it Tsukamoto-senpai’s father also comes from a powerful Alpha family?” Akaashi sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

“Also?” Konoha parroted back at him. “I’m guessin’ you met Bokuto’s brother?”

Akaashi nodded.

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

Konoha laughed. “No wonder you look so sleep deprived. He’s an intense guy.” Konoha’s eyes flicked back towards the limo. “Let’s hope Tsukamoto’s father doesn’t weasel him out of trouble again.”

“Again?” Akaashi asked.

“Yeah, I’ve heard rumours at thhe got into trouble during middle-school and daddy dearest bailed him out,” Konoha sighed. “His dad’s a government minister with lots of connections. Explains why Tsukamoto’s such a prick.”

“That explains a lot,” Sarukui mused.

“What about Okano and Nagai?” Komi asked.

Konoha shrugged. “Haven’t heard anything ‘bout them or their families.”

“Hey, where was Satou last Friday night?” Komi asked.

Sarukui looked pensive. “I didn’t sense him that night.”

“I wonder why he wasn’t there with his cronies.”

“Good question. I’m surprised Okano was there,” Konoha crossed his arms. “He’s not the type to get his hands dirty. I would have expected Satou to be there but not Okano. But whatever, I still hope they get their asses handed to them.”

“Yeah!” Komi agreed enthusiastically.

“Aren’t you two forgetting something?” Sarukui sighed, packing away his bento box.

“Eh?” Komi and Konoha both looked puzzled.

“How this is going to affect volleyball club.”

Akaashi felt his stomach drop.

* * *

“This is… awkward,” Komi remarked with a wavering grin.

“Ya think?” Konoha snarked back.

Akaashi found himself in the gym with Konoha, Komi, Sarukui and the two other first years, Komeda and Gotou silently setting up the volleyball equipment.

Suzumeda Kaori arrived shortly after they finished setting up. “Coach, Captain and Yukie-san are in a meeting. I don’t know how much longer they’ll be…” she announced in a hesitant tone, far different from her usual cheery and exuberant tone.

“I guess there’s no helping it,” Konoha sighed clapping his hands together to get the team’s attention. “Ok team, now’s not the time to slack off, let’s start our drills.”

Uneasily, the team began running drills, first starting off with laps and then warm-up spikes.

“Sorry I’m late! I’m here, I’m here!” Bokuto shouted as he came running into the gym. “Huh? Where is everybody?”

“Meeting,” Suzumeda replied.

“Meeting? Meeting about what?” Bokuto cocked his head to the side in question.

Suzemeda bit her lip and shrugged. “Probably something to do with the meetings going on this morning.”

“Uh… ok?” Bokuto ran onto the court and tugged on Akaashi’s practice jersey. “Hey, Akaashi, what’s goin’ on?”

“I’m not sure,” Akaashi replied. “It seems like Coach, Captain and Yukie-san are in a meeting right now, probably about what happened Friday night.”

“You mean the penalty laps?” Bokuto raised a brow in confusion.

“That and… what happened after…”

“Oh,” Bokuto frowned. “After? The thing that got Tomo-nii really mad?”

“I guess so?” ‘ _Takeru-san was mad?’_ Akaashi thought, surprised. He could understand Bokuto’s brother being upset about the optics, but to be angry about the attack was something Akaashi had not expected.

“I still don’t really get what happened?” Bokuto grumbled, crossing his arms.

As Akaashi was struggling to find a way to answer as neutrally as possible, the door to the gym opened and Coachi Yamiji entered, followed by a sombre looking Kawamura and Shirofuku.

“Coach and Captain are here!” Konoha announced.

“Good afternoon coach!” The club members stopped their drills to greet their coach.

“Ah, hello,” Coach replied quietly. “Everyone, gather around, we’re having a team meeting.”

Akaashi lined up with the second-years and first-years, dreading what was to come.

Coach Yamiji sighed. “As many of you know, there was a troubling incident involving the club last Friday and I’m very disappointed to learn of what happened both during practice and after practice.”

Akaashi noticed the two-first years look at each other uneasily. ‘After practice?’ he saw Komeda mouth to Gotou who simply shook his head in response.

“Earlier today, the school administration met and decided to expel Tsukamoto from Fukurodani Academy. Okano and Nagai have both been suspended for a week and Washio has been suspended for two days.”

Next to him, Akaashi could hear Konoha suck in a breath. “Thank fuckin’ god,” he muttered under his breath.

“Obviously, this will affect team moving forward. Even though we are playing in Kanto Regionals in a little less than three weeks and the qualifiers for the Interhigh soon after that, we need to send a strong message that the type of behaviour exhibited Friday night is not condoned. As such, Okano and Nagai will be suspended from club activities for two weeks and Washio will be suspended for four days. Despite all of this, I still expect all of your to give your 100% effort.”

Coach Yamiji paused for a moment to allow the club members to process the announcement before continuing. “I believe Kawamura has something he would like to say.”

Captain Kawamura stepped forward and bowed deeply to the team. “I’m sorry! I’ve failed you as Captain. If I had been a better captain, Friday night’s incident wouldn’t have happened. I should have been stricter with the third-years. If you will allow me to continue as your captain, I promise to do a better job and listen to your concerns.”

“Awww, chin up capt’n!” Komi declared, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “It’s not like ya coulda done anything, you weren’t even here!”

The remaining second years nodded in assent.

“Unless any of you have any objections, I’m going to ask Kawamura-kun to stay on as captain,” Coach Yamiji addressed the team.

“No objections, sir!” the team responded.

“Alright, we have a lot of work ahead of us with Kanto Regionals around the corner,” Coach Yamiji sighed heavily. “Let’s start with-”

Coach Yamiji petered off when he noticed Mizuoka enter the gym. “Have you gotten any answers?” he asked the third-year libero.

“Yes sir, Ubugawa said they’re happy to hold practice matches with us this weekend if we can host them here. I’ve already booked the gym for this Saturday and Sunday and put in the request to open up the visitors’ dorm. Shinzen said they would get back to me but said it might be easier for us to go to them. Nekoma is unavailable this week but will see if they can join us at Shinzen the week after.”

Coach Yamiji nodded. “Good.”

“Uh…” Mizuoka hesitated.

“What is it?”

“Well, umm,” he pulled an envelope out of his sports bag and held it out towards the spectacled coach. “I ran into some of the members and they asked me to hand this to you.”

Coach Yamiji ripped open the envelope and pulled out a letter, scanning its contents. He walked over to the bench placed to the side of the court, where he usually sat to observe practice, and sat down with a heavy sigh.

“Everythin’ ok Coach?” Komi ventured.

Coach Yamiji closed his eyes and tilted his head back, as though he was composing himself before he faced the team.

“Okano, Satou, Nagai and Ito have all quit the club in protest of the school’s decisions today.”

A heavy silence fell over the team.

“I guess it can’t be helped,” Coach Yamiji sighed again. “We just have to redouble our efforts. Mizuoka, make sure we get those practices matches in with Shinzen and Nekoma. I don’t care how, just make it happen.”

Mizuoka nodded fervently. “Yes sir!”

“Alright, enough talk. Let’s run drills A through D today and then focus on our digs. We need to work on our defensive skills as a team.”

“We’re fucked,” Konoha muttered as they starting picking up their discarded balls from the gym floor as they got ready to start their drills. “We just lost half the team. I guess this was what ya meant, Saru.”

Sarukui nodded solemnly. “Washio thought this might happen, although he wasn’t expecting Ito to quit too...”

“Stupid of me not to realize this sooner,” Konoha grumbled.

“Are we even gonna be able to play in Regionals?” Komi asked no one in particular.

“Hmm… well numbers and positions-wise, we’ve just barely got enough players and subs except for…” Sarukui glanced pointedly towards Akaashi.

“We’ve only got one setter,” Konoha finished for him.

Akaashi felt a cold sweat take over his body.

“What the hell are ya so happy about?” Konoha suddenly barked. “Do ya not realize what deep shit we’re in?’

Akaashi glanced to the side where Bokuto stood next to him, bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Akaashi’s gonna be starting setter!”

Konoha stared at Bokuto, a flabbergasted expression painted on his face. “Seriously? That’s your takeaway from all of this?”

“Well yeah, and you guys are probably gonna be part of the starting line-up too!”

Konoha simply stared, his mouth opening and closing silently as he failed to come up with a retort. Next to him, Komi and Sarukui exchanged a worried but bemused look.

“It’s gonna be awesome, right Akaashi?” Bokuto continued, slapping the first-year setter heavily on the back with exuberance. “You’re gonna send me lots of tosses right?”

 _“I think you’ll be playing in official matches sooner than you think, Akaashi-kun. You should brace yourself.”_ Takeru Tomoyuki’s words floated through his mind.

Akaashi wanted to throw up.

“Ah, sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> Sorry for the huge delay. The chapter kept fighting me and it kinda evolved into its own kind of monster. Lots of world-building again, this time to highlight how Betas fit in the world of this story. 
> 
> Not a lot of Bokuto again (he's busy doing detention) but he'll be featured more prominently in the next chapter (I think?). Ultimately though, this an Akaashi-centric story and I wanted to explore how he became the dependable and mentally tough (most of the time) setter that we all love. 
> 
> Also, some of you may have noticed that I changed Akaashi's age. After some research and math (I hate math), I realized I'd gotten his age wrong, so the story has been edited accordingly. 
> 
> With the winter holidays coming up, hopefully I can pick up the pace with my updates. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who continues to read, I really appreciate it!!
> 
> ~Mari


	10. Shaky Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of most of the third-years quitting the team, Fukurodani hosts Ubugawa for a weekend training session. With the sudden chnage to their team's dynamics, Fukurodani struggles to come together as a team.

“Man, these are dusty!” Konoha grumbled as he dragged out a pile of futons up the stairs to the roof of the visitors’ dormitory, Akaashi following closely behind with his own armful of futons, his fourth armful of the day. 

Once outside, they hung the futons on the railing next to the armloads they had already hung, beating them with bamboo futon sticks to clear the dust from the traditional bedding.

“At least that’s done,” Konoha commented as he finished beating the last futon. “We’ll let them air out in the sun for an hour or so and bring them back in. We’re lucky the rainy season hasn’t started yet.”

Akaashi nodded, following the sandy-haired second-year back down the stairs. It was his first time in the visitors’ dorm located in an obscure corner of the school grounds. The dorms were used to host students from other schools for club and sports activities. Gaging by the amount of dust, they were the first club to use the dorms this year.

When they got back to the second floor, Sarukui and Komi were busy cleaning the floors of the large room where Ubugawa’s volleyball team would be staying.

“Shirofuku and Suzumeda took all the bedding and towels down to the laundry room,” Sarukui announced when he spotted the wing spiker and setter.

“Sounds good,” Konoha replied. “What about the pillows?”

“There in a box in storage, Captain went to go get them.”

“Where’s Bokuto?”

“Shirofuku sent him to go clean the bathrooms,” Komi grinned.

Konoha grimaced. “Seriously? After last time? Come on Akaashi, let’s go find that oaf before floods the place.”

Curious, Akaashi followed Konoha down the hall to the first of the two large communal bathrooms. As they got closer, they could hear running water and loud, off-key whistling. Following the sound, Konoha warily pushed open the door.

At first sight, nothing seemed amiss. The long countertop with the row of sinks had been wiped down and the row of urinals and six toilet stalls looked clean. As the travelled further into the bathroom and turned the corner into the large communal bathing room, the sound of splashing water and whistling got louder.

Konoha slowed in his approach and cautiously peered around the corner. Akaashi followed suit and peeked around the corner to see a water-logged Bokuto cheerfully spraying down the bathing room with a hose.

“Bokuto-san, why are you all wet?” Akaashi asked with concern, fully rounding the corner.

“Huh?” Bokuto turned suddenly, hose in hand and Akaashi felt himself get yanked back by Konoha in the nick of time as the spray of water barely missed him.

“Hey Akaashi!” Bokuto grinned cheerfully. “Didya finish airing out the futons?”

“Yes,” Akaashi replied, trying once again. “Why are you all wet?”

“Oh this?” Bokuto plucked sheepishly at his soaked t-shirt. “The water wasn’t coming out at first so I turned on the hose all the way and then the hose starting swinging around all over the place on it’s own and by the time I managed to catch it I got all wet…”

“Or you could have just turned the water off…” Konoha commented, eyeing the drenched walls.

“I didn’t’ think of that,” Bokuto shrugged, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

Akaashi chuckled inwardly at the sight of the ace, drenched from head to toe with his usually spiky hair plastered to his head, making him look young and innocent.

“Wait here Bokuto-san, I’ll go get you a towel,” Akaashi turned to leave before adding, “Do you have spare clothes in your gym bag?”

“Yeah, but you don’t hafta go grab them, I’ll be fine!” Bokuto protested.

“It’s not fine Bokuto-san, you need get dried off and into some dry clothes.”

“That’s nice and all Akaashi but you don’t have to worry about Bokuto catching a cold since idiots can’t catch colds!” Konoha smirked.

“I’m more concerned about Bokuto-san dripping water through the dorm and creating more work for us,” Akaashi replied cooly.

“Akaa-shi!” Bokuto protest, his voice rising to comical levels with the middle syllable of his name.

Konoha laughed. “Good point. I’ll stay here and watch him to make sure he doesn’t wander off before you get back.”

When Akaashi returned five minutes later with a towel and the ace’s gym bag, Bokuto stood shirtless, talking animatedly with Konoha as he wrung the water out of his shirt.

“We totally should! Right Akaashi?” Bokuto grinned at him, throwing his wet shirt over his shoulder.

“We should what, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi replied seriously, carefully stepping around the large puddles of water on the floor as he handed the ace his gym bag and a towel.

“I was tellin’ Konoha that we should stay in the dorms too! It’ll be fun!”

“I like sleeping in my own bed, in my own room, thanks,” Konoha shot back. “Besides, we’ll be staying in Shinzen’s dorms in Saitama next weekend.”

“So? Why not bunk together both weekends?” Bokuto persisted. “We can all hang out at night and start practice early!” 

“Pass,” Konoha dismissed him coolly.

“We’re going to Saitama next weekend?” Akaashi looked to Konoha for confirmation.

“Oh oops, I was supposed to tell you. Mizuoka-senpai confirmed with them this morning. We leave Saturday morning, Coach will let your homeroom teacher know that you’ll be missing next Saturday’s classes. You need to go find Mizuoka-senpai, he has the forms your parents need to sign for you to go to Shinzen next week. He should be in the equipment room.” 

“I’ll go find him now.” 

“Sure thing, meet us back in main dorm room once you’ve grabbed the form, we’ll help Saru and Komi finish up there and then grab the futons.”

Akaashi nodded. As he was leaving, he could hear Konoha commenting, somewhat enviously, on how Bokuto had bulked up compared to last year.

* * *

The past few days had both flown by but also dragged on excruciatingly. Rumours had spread through the school like wildfire. Those who had also suffered at the hands of Tsukamoto had been relieved at his expulsion. There were many, however, who railed against his expulsion.

Despite his dour personality, Tsukamoto had been popular among the third-year Alphas. In fact, he had been popular among many of the Alphas in the second-year as well. He even had some admirers among the first-years.

Akaashi soon learned that Tsukamoto, unsurprisingly, was among the faction of young Alphas that believed that they were still the rightful leaders of the world and that the other sub-genders were inferior.

Fortunately for Akaashi, none of his classmates were admirers of Tsukamoto. Although he still got inquisitive glances and the occasional questions from his still curious classmates, for the most part, they seemed to be under the impression that Akaashi had been the unfortunate victim of a disgruntled Alpha. Akaashi didn’t like being pitied but, considering the alternative, he realized that it was better than being despised.

Although his classmates were either neutral or on his side, Akaashi was cognizant enough to realize that he needed to steer clear of Tsukamoto’s friends and followers, or any other disgruntled Alphas. He counted himself lucky that the volleyball club was keeping him busy with longer practices and preparations for the training session with Ubugawa High the coming weekend, so that most of his time was spent in class or at volleyball practice.

Which left only lunch break and the need for a plan to avoid any disgruntled Alphas during that time. And to his surprise, while he was still trying to come up with a plan, Bokuto began to show up at his classroom every lunch hour without fail.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto would always crow, loud enough for the entire classroom to hear. “Are ya ready for lunch? Let’s go!”

It had quickly turned into a routine for them, Bokuto enthusiastically leading the way to their lunch-time hangout, always carrying an obscene amount of food, yakiso-bread, BBQ meat buns and sweet azuki-bread. He’d also started supplementing his lunch with either boiled eggs or bananas, telling Akaashi that it was to put on more muscle.

The first two times Bokuto had shown up at his classroom, he’d spotted a group of second-year and third-year Alphas lingering the hallway leading to the library, obviously trying to catch Akaashi on his own. Both times, upon seeing Bokuto, the Alphas would quickly disperse. On the third-day, the Alphas were nowhere to be seen, leading Akaashi to believe that they had given up trying to corner him during lunch.

‘ _For now_ ,’ he had thought to himself.

“Bokuto-san, what happened to your detention? I thought you had to do an hour during the lunch?”

Akaashi had heard from the second-years that Bokuto was allowed to complete his detention in two parts, one hour during lunch and the other hour before or after volleyball practice. He wondered how Bokuto had been able to spend the lunch-hour with him the past four days.

“Huh?” Bokuto responded around a mouthful of meat-bun. “Oh that,” he answered after swallowing noisily, “Kanawaza-sensei is lettin’ me do my first-hour before classes.”

“Bokuto-san, I appreciate what you’re doing but I don’t want to inconvenience you,” Akaashi sighed, tamping down on his irritation that the dominant Alpha next to him kept Tsukamoto’s aggrieved friends away, simply by his presence while Akaashi, despite hours spent pondering over his problem, was unable to come up with an alternate solution to deal with his problem. And although he was grateful for what the ace was doing for him, he didn’t want to become a burden. 

“Do ya not wanna have lunch with me?”

“What? No,” Akaashi replied hastily. “It’s just that I don’t want to be burdensome.”

“Burdensome?” Bokuto parroted back to him with a blank look.

“Well, yes,” Akaashi began before a sudden thought struck him. “Why are you having lunch with me Bokuto-san?”

“Eh? Because Kanazawa-sensei always rushes me through lunch. Plus doin’ math during lunch makes my yakisoba-pan taste bad!”

“That’s all?”

“And we get to watch volleyball videos together,” Bokuto added cheerfully, gesturing to his phone that was currently playing a professional volleyball match. “Woah!!! Did ya see that cross-shot? So cool!” he crowed, swing his arm as though he was hitting a spike.

’ _He’s completely oblivious,_ ’ Akaashi confirmed to himself. ‘ _He hasn’t noticed the other Alphas at all.’_

* * *

“Thanks again for coming,” Kawamura shook hands with Ubugawa’s captain.

“No sweat, we’re happy for the extra practice, especially since Nekoma’s camp was cancelled.”

Akaashi stood with the rest of Fukurodani’s volleyball club, standing at the school’s back gates to welcome the members of Ubugawa High who had just arrived. He noted that the team was made up of mostly stocky and well-built players, likely all Alphas.

“We’ll let you get unpacked and warmed up and then we’ll start our first match in an hour?”

“Sounds good, Kawamura,” Ubugawa’s captain agreed as he and his team followed Fukurodani’s captain towards the dorms.

“Hey Bokuto,” one of Ubugawa’s players called out to Fukurodani’s ace. He was stocky with black hair pulled back tightly into a short ponytail and severe expression. Most notably, he had thick lips pulled into a scowl.

‘ _Alpha_ ,’ Akaashi quickly identified.

“Hey Gōra! Long time no see!” Bokuto replied cheerfully. “Are ya guys still doing 100 serves after practice?”

_‘100 serves after practice?_ ’ Akaashi thought to himself in disbelief.

“Of course,” the Alpha Bokuto had called ‘Gōra’ replied matter-of-factly. “Service aces are the most effective offense and defense. We’re not letting you score any points on us like last time.” 

Bokuto grinned in response, the curl of his mouth almost feral. “Oh yeah? I’ve been doin’ extra practice too ya know?”

The other Alpha smirked in response before his mouth pulled back into a frown. “Hey, what happened to your team? I heard almost all your third-years quit?” he asked seriously.

Bokuto’s grin faltered. “Eh, not really sure. They all quit when Tsukamoto got expelled for bullying Akaashi.” 

“Akaashi?” the Alpha’s frown deepened.

“Oh yeah,” Bokuto slapped his forehead. “I forgot! This is Akaashi!” he pointed enthusiastically at the dark-haired setter. “He’s our new setter, he’s really good!”

Akaashi felt the weight of the Alpha’s gaze as the other scrutinized him. After a moment the Alpha extended a large hand towards Akaashi. “Gōra Masaki, second-year, wing spiker.”

Akaashi solemnly accepted the other’s hand, bowing slightly. “Akaashi Keiji, first-year, setter.”

“How many other first-years are on the team?” Gōra asked.

“Mmm,” Bokuto crossed his arms in thought. “We had a lot join at first but… how many first-years do we have?” Bokuto looked to Akaashi for an answer.

“Three, including myself.” Akaashi answered.

“Konoha, Komi, Washio and Sarukui still on the team?”

“Yup!” Bokuto grinned.

“So that makes 10 players total. That’s going to be tough for you guys,” Gōra commented.

“Nah,” Bokuto disagreed good-naturedly. “Tsukamoto and the others weren’t fun to play with. Now the team’s full of people that are fun to play with!”

“If you say so,” Gōra agreed good-naturedly, his demeanor at odds with his severe expression. “I need to go set up in the dorms, I’ll catch up with you two later.” The large Alpha jogged off towards the dorms with a wave.

“Come on Akaashi,” Bokuto tugged Akaashi towards the gym, let’s get warmed up. “We’re gonna win all our practice matches!”

* * *

“I’m sorry!” Akaashi called out as the ball went careening off his outstretched arms, giving Ubugawa another service ace.

“Don’t mind!” Konoha called out once again.

Akaashi pushed himself to his feet, rubbing at his sore forearms. The weight and strength of Ubugawa’s serves were brutal. As part of their strategy, Ubugawa had been aiming their serves at Akaashi, restricting his ability to set. Whenever they were able to dig up one of Ubugawa’s brutal serves, their blockers had Bokuto and Washio marked, utilizing an efficient combination of service aces and blocking to prevent Fukurodani from scoring.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto yelled out from his position by the net. “Quit flailing around!”

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi repeated.

“Shut up!” Konoha hissed from where he stood next to Bokuto, delivering a swift kick to the ace’s calves. “Their serves are brutal and you know it!”

“Just stay calm,” Washio called from where he also stood on the front-row by the net.

Akaashi grimaced as he moved back into position on the back-row as Gōra Masaki prepared to serve once more. They were in their worst possible rotation with Mizuoka, Sarukui and Komi out of rotation and himself, Kawamura and Komeda on the back row.

He felt a pair of eyes on him and turned to see Bokuto looking back at him with a frown. Akaashi did his best to tamp down on his rising anxiety. His lack of experience playing matches during middle-school was becoming painfully obvious.

The whistle blew and Gōra tossed the ball high in the air, running forward with strong strides.

To Akaashi’s surprise, Bokuto began shifting backwards on the court towards Akaashi, his eyes never leaving Gōra’s form.

“Akaashi! To the net!” he yelled as moved to intercept the serve, pushing Akaashi out of the way.

Akaashi dashed towards the net as the ball hit Bokuto’s forearms with a resounding thud and flew high up into the air.

“Left, left!!!” Bokuto shouted as he raced back towards the net, already preparing to jump.

_‘He wants to do an A-quick?’_ Akaashi thought with horror. He scrambled to get under the ball and hastily tossed to his left, hoping that the A-quick would catch Ubugawa’s blockers off their guard.

His toss was sloppy and he could see Bokuto shift mid-air to compensate but it was too late. Ubugawa’s blockers had tracked the ace and had set up a solid three-man block.

“Argh!” Bokuto shouted in frustration as he hit the ball out of bounds. “Come on!” he yelled at no one in particular, tugging at his hair in frustration.

Gōra managed to serve another service ace before his aim slipped and Kawamura was able to bump the ball back up in a clear arc. Akaashi shifted under the ball and assessed the situation.

“Akaashi!!!” he head Bokuto shout once more. “Left! One more, left!!”

‘ _Bokuto-san is being marked by two of their blockers and their libero is in position to intercept his cross.’_

_‘Washio-san is being marked by their setter. If I pass to him, his only opening is a straight shot and one of their back-row wing-spikers is in position to intercept.’_

_‘Kawamura-san is still recovering from his receive, his form is out for a back toss and Komeda still can’t execute a back-attack.’_

_‘Only one option,’_ Akaashi concluded.

“Konoha-san” he called as he tossed.

Konoha spiked capably straight down the center but his spike was dug up by Gōra. Ubugawa’s setter quickly set and Konoha frantically dove to save the feint executed by Ubugawa’s spiker. 

“Left!!” Bokuto was practically screaming this time. “Akaashi!”

‘ _He’s still being marked, there’s no opening for him,_ ’ Akaashi thought, resisting the urge to set to the ace. ‘ _Washio is still being marked. Konoha is in no position to spike, he hasn’t gotten back to his feet yet. It has to be a back-attack.’_

“Kawamura-san!” Akaashi tossed back and high. Fukurodani’s captain jumped and spiked from the back row.

His spike landed just barely out of bounds.

‘ _Maybe I should have tossed to Bokuto-san_ ,’ Akaashi second-guessed himself.

“Fine!” Akaashi was startled out of his thoughts when Fukurodani’s ace stomped towards him and stopped, his nose inches from his own. “See if I care!” Bokuto snarled at him before stomping away.

Akaashi could only stare after Bokuto’s retreating figure in shock.

“Don’t mind him,” he felt Konoha tap him on the shoulder. “He’s just being moody.”

“Should I apologize?” Akaashi wondered out loud. “I wasn’t ignoring him. It’s just that it looked like he was going to get blocked.”

“Yeah, I know,” Konoha agreed. “Just leave him alone for now. There’s nothing any of us can do once gets into one of these moods.”

“But,” Akaashi began to protest.

“Konoha’s right,” Washio joined in. “Just let him be. He’ll come around.”

“He will?”

“Well yeah, maybe not this game, but eventually,” Konoha shrugged. “Let’s get back in position,” he urged when Gōra retreated behind the service line to serve once again.

The ref’s whistle blew and Sarukui was subbed back onto the court, taking Komeda’s place. Sarukui gave him a reassuring smile as he crouched into position on the receiving line.

“Let Captain or I take the receive, you just get the net,” Sarukui murmured to him, with Kawamura giving a grunt of assent.

“Understood,” Akaashi inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, trying to calm his nerves.

For the rest of the game, Bokuto staunchly ignored him and never called for a toss. Akaashi did his best to ignore the sulking ace and tried to focus is attention on sending the best tosses he could to Washio, Sarukui, Konoha and Kawamura.

Fukurodani made some headway when Washio rotated off the court and Mizuoka took up his position in the back-row, the third-year libero capably shutting down any further service aces from Ubugawa.

However, a few short rallies later, the whistle blew and the match was lost. Their second game that day and their second loss of that day.

Akaashi gasped for breath and wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood with the rest of the team as Coach Yamiji addressed them. Off to the side, Bokuto stood by himself, angrily sucking on his water bottle.

“Bokuto! Are you listening?” Coach Yamiji chided with a measure of frustration.

“Yeah, yeah, watch for their blocks, I heard ya.”

“Uh oh,” Komi snickered.

To Akaashi’s astonishment, Coach Yamiji got up from his seat and marched over the ace, dragging him to a corner of the gym where he began to lecture the ace.

Despite being taller than their coach, Bokuto looked oddly like a small child as he stood with his shoulders slumped and his head hanging low with a grimace on his face as he was scolded by Fukurodani’s coach.

“Hey, cheer up,” Komi patted him on the back. “You did good!”

“No,” Akaashi shook his head. “I didn’t make a single successful receive, I’ve let the team down.”

“Woah, woah, don’t be so hard on yourself!” Komi chastised teasingly. “Ubugawa’s serves are scary good.” 

Akaashi frowned, unconvinced.

“Ah but, if you’ll let your senpai give ya a few pointers,” Komi grinned. “Ya need to get lower-centered to the ground, that way ya can absorb the shock better without being thrown off balance. Right Mizuoka-senpai?”

The stocky third-year setter nodded. “That and you could work on your arm extension. Your arms weren’t fully extended and forward which is why the ball went out of bounds even though you made contact.”

“Thank you, I will do better next time.” Akaashi nodded, storing away the information. Although he already knew most of the pointers the two liberos had given him, he didn’t realize that he wasn’t properly implementing the techniques. 

‘ _I was so cowed by the speed and force of the serves that I was forgetting basic technique._ ’ Akaashi internally reprimanded himself.

“Has everyone hydrated?” Coach Yamiji reappeared, seeming to have finished lecturing the ace who stood by sullenly.

“Yes sir!” Most members of the team replied in unison.

“Good. The next game will be our last for today. Let’s change up the rotation. Komi, you’ll be starting libero in this game. Sarukui, we’ll have you stay in for now. Komeda, you can take a bit of a break. Gotou, we’ll have you play in this match. Oh, and Akaashi, you’ll sit out this next game.”

The last part of Coach’s announcement was met with stunned silence and Akaashi felt his stomach drop.

“But Coach, who’s gonna set?” Komi finally blurted out.

“We’ll have Konoha play as setter for the next game,” Coach Yamiji replied calmly.

“What?” Konoha exclaimed. “I haven’t played setter since first semester of first year!”

“We need you to dust off your skills,” Coach Yamiji replied amicably.

“But Coach!” Konoha tried to argue.

“No arguing! Just get out there and play!”

Konoha shot Fukurodani’s coach an irritated look before making his way onto the court.

Akaashi’s hands twitched and he was unable to supress his nervous habit. He felt a prickle at his neck and he turned around to catch Bokuto staring at him. As soon as he met the ace’s gaze, Bokuto quickly looked away with a scowl and stomped onto the court.

Akaashi’s fidgeting intensified.

“Akaashi-kun.”

Akaashi turned to face Coach Yamiji who patted the bench next to him. “Come sit for a bit.”

Akaashi sat down obediently next to the coach, his stomach churning.

“I didn’t bench you because you were playing badly,” Coach Yamiji began conversationally as he watched Sarukui wind up for a jump serve. “Some of your plays were panicked and hasty, but you were still making sound strategic choices.”

“But I lack the skills and experience to properly execute my strategies,” Akaashi responded, voicing what Coach Yamiji had left unsaid.

“Well, that’s true,” Coach Yamiji agreed with a small smile, “but I’m not worried. In time, you’ll gain more experience, you’ll hone your skills. The biggest challenge for the team right now is cohesion. The team needs to build its foundation. Once you have a strong foundation in place, you’ll be better equipped to tackle new challenges as they come.”

Akaashi wasn’t sure if he completely understood what Coach Yamiji was saying, but what he did understand, he agreed with. Much like foundational skills, the team need to create the base upon which they would build their plays and strategies.

“I’m also having you sit out,” Coach Yamiji continued, his eyes fixed on the game in front of him, “to give Konoha some practice with his setting. He’s a fairly capable setter and even played as setter for two-years during middle school.”

“Oh,” Akaashi replied dumbly. He knew that Konoha possessed above-average skills as a setter but didn’t realize he had extensive experience playing as a setter. “He mentioned that he played as setter during his first-year at Fukurodani?”

Coach Yamiji cracked a smile. “He did. But he had trouble with Bokuto… that and his skills are better applied as an all-rounder. But we can’t have you play setter without any back-up so Konoha will just have to persevere,” Coach Yamiji chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, he won’t replace you as setter.”

Akaashi didn’t know if he felt relieved or not, hearing Coach’s declaration that he would not be replaced.

Coach Yamiji turned his full attention to the game in front of them so Akaashi followed suit.

Fukurodani continued to struggle against Ubugawa’s powerful serves. Despite his protests and a rocky start, Konoha was setting capably although he favoured Sarukui and Washio. Bokuto continued sulk, his mood growing darker with each toss that wasn’t sent his way.

Predictably, they lost the third game as well.

“Ah too bad,” Coach Yamiji stated genially when the ref blew the final whistle. “At least the score was closer this time.”

Akaashi glanced at the scoreboard. 25-19. Fukurodani hadn’t quite made it to 20 points.

Akaashi gathered with the rest of the team to listen to Coach Yamiji make his final remarks before sending them out to complete their cooldown. When the team left the gym to complete their cooldown jog around the campus grounds, Bokuto took off ahead of everyone, dashing off into the fading evening light.

When Akaashi jogged lightly back to the gym, trailing behind Washio, Kawamura and Mizuoka. Konoha, Komi and Sarukui brought up the rear, Konoha grumbling the entire time about having to play setter.

Akaashi did his best to keep his brooding thoughts at bay as he re-entered the gym to the sounds of balls thudding into the court echoed throughout the gym.

He entered the gym to see the members of Ubugawa practicing their serves.

_100 serves after practice._

‘ _Even in the third match, Ubugawa’s serves didn’t lose any of their speed or power,_ ’ he thought to himself with some level of admiration.

Akaashi spotted Bokuto standing in the corner of the gym, watching Ubugawa’s extra serve practice with a serious, almost feral expression on his face.

Akaashi completed his cool-down stretches with the rest of his team just as Ubugawa wound down it’s extra serve practice and filed out of the gym to run their cool-down laps.

“Good work,” Kawamura stated when they finished their cool-down exercise. “Hit the shower and go home. We meet again tomorrow morning at 8 am.”

“So early,” Konoha grumbled as he headed towards the club room, on his way towards the showers.

Akaashi moved to follow-suit but he remembered that he’d left his gym bag and court shoes at the other end of the gym.

The sound of a ball cart being wheeled in his direction grabbed Akaashi’s attention as he straightened, bag and shoes in hand. He looked up to see Bokuto wheeling the ball cart towards him, stopping a few feet away.

“Do you want to practice your spikes Bokuto-san?” Akaashi finally asked when the ace remained stubbornly silent.

“Only if you want to,” Bokuto replied petulantly.

Akaashi studied the ace for a moment, considering. There was a deep furrow between the ace’s eyes, his jaw was set stubbornly and his attitude remained petulant.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replied coolly and turned to leave.

He paused when he heard the ace mutter something under his breath. He turned around to face the ace and raised a quizzical brow. “I’m sorry Bokuto-san, I didn’t catch that.”

“I want to,” Bokuto repeated. “I want to practice my spikes.”

Akaashi considered for another moment before dropping his gym bag and pulling his court shoes on. “Alright, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto remained sullen while he practiced his spikes, hitting them with particular viciousness. Absent were his usual exclamations of “Hey, hey, hey!”, his wide smiles and exuberant energy.

Bokuto missed more shots than he usually did, his spikes landing out of bounds or hitting the net. Clearly his mood affected his ability to play, dulling his skills.

‘ _This was a mistake_ ,’ Akaashi thought to himself. ‘ _I thought he might pull out of his petulant mood if we practiced a few spikes and he made a few good shots.’_ Akaashi had reasoned that the reason for Bokuto’s foul mood was because Akaashi hadn’t tossed to him. Logically, he thought Bokuto might return to his jovial self if he tossed to him now.

‘ _Clearly logic doesn’t always apply to Bokuto-san,’_ Akaashi concluded with a small amount of irritation, the gears in his mind working overtime. ‘ _How can I make Bokuto-san return to his usual self?’_

An image from when he first saw Bokuto fly up in the air superimposed itself on the current Bokuto, the contrast causing a lead pit to form in his stomach. He needed to fix this.

“I think you two have had enough,” Washio’s deep voice interrupted their practice.

“No, I’m not done yet,” Bokuto replied stubbornly as he roughly threw the ball Akaashi to toss.

On autopilot, Akaashi tossed, not even realizing that he’d thrown a toss until the ball thudded back down onto the court.

“Captain Kawamura sent me to lock up the gym,” Washio stated, seemingly unaffected by Bokuto’s dour mood.

Bokuto scowled and stomped off the court towards the club room.

Washio stayed behind with Akaashi to help collect the volleyballs scattered about the court.

“We don’t need to break the equipment down since we’ll be using it tomorrow,” Washio spoke up when Akaashi moved to take down the net.

“Oh,” Akaashi replied dumbly. He followed Washio towards the club room, intending to grab his things and leave. Washio locked the gym doors and just as they reached the club room, the door slammed open and Bokuto stormed out and exited out the building’s side entrance without a glance to either Washio or Akaashi.

“Go shower, I’ll wait,” Washio instructed the dark-haired setter.

“Ah, I can-” Akaashi tried to protest.

“It’s fine, I have some review materials I can go over while I wait.” Washio sat down on the bench and pulled out his college prep materials.

Akaashi hesitated for a moment more but the call of a hot shower was too strong. He rushed through his shower routine and quickly made his way back to the club room where Washio was jotting down notes in his college prep book.

“Thank you for waiting Washio-san, I really appreciate it.”

Washio looked up, his expression blank. “Don’t worry about it. And if you and Bokuto were making progress, I would have waited until you were done. But you weren’t.”

“Is Bokuto-san…” Akaashi petered off, unsure. ‘ _Alright? Well, it’s not like he’s sick,’_ Akaashi thought to himself unable to formulate what it was he was worried about.

“He’ll probably be back to normal tomorrow,” Washio replied calmly, locking the side-entrance of the athletic building behind them. “Most of the time there’s nothing that can be done when he gets like that.”

“Was it because I was playing poorly?”

Washio scrutinized him for a moment before answering. “No. Your inexperience in matches shows but you probably didn’t play as badly as you think you did.”

Akaashi fidgeted with his hands as they headed towards the station. “Washio-san, I never apologized for what happened.”

Washio glanced at him briefly but continued to walk briskly towards the station. “You don’t need to apologize, I made a conscious decision knowing what the outcome would be.”

Akaashi continued to fidget with his hands as they reached the station and waited for the train in silence.

“We’ll be fine,” Washio spoke up as they boarded the train. “We’re a stronger team without the third-years that quit.”

“But Tsukamoto-senpai is… was a better setter than me.”

“Maybe in terms of skill. But in terms of strategy, you’re the better setter.”

Akaashi continued to worry his fingers, unconvinced.

“Your tosses are easier to hit.”

Akaashi looked up at the tall Alpha questioningly.

“Tsukamoto was skilled but he made his spikers adapt to his tosses. You adapt your tosses to your spikers. All of us have noticed, especially Bokuto.”

* * *

Akaashi suppressed a yawn as he climbed up the stairs to the entrance of the station. He checked his phone as he neared the ticket gates: 7:15 am. He had decided to come early, hoping to squeeze in a little extra practice tossing. While the tree in his parents’ backyard was a passable training tool, the gym wall provided a better rebound surface.

He was surprised to find Konoha sitting on the bench outside the combini located right across from the train station entrance, sleepily sipping on a canned ice coffee.

“Good morning, Konoha-san,” Akaashi greeted the second-year with a small bow.

Konoha squinted up at him blearily. “Mornin’” he replied in a weary tone, slurping his coffee loudly. “You’re early.”

“So are you, Konoha-san.”

“Mmm,” Konoha agreed groggily. “I’m waiting for Sarukui and Komi. Here, sit,” he patted the bench next to him.

Akaashi sat next to him obediently. ‘ _Extra-toss practice will probably have to wait until the lunch break,’_ he thought to himself.

“You good to go today?” Konoha asked after a moment’s silence.

“Konoha-san?”

“’Cause I don’t wanna play setter, just to be clear.”

“Oh,” Akaashi replied numbly. “I’ll do my best.”

“You better,” Konoha muttered, clearly still half-asleep.

“Mornin’!” Komi’s cheerful voice cut through the silent morning air as he jogged towards from the train station.

“You’re way too fuckin’ cheerful this early on a Sunday morning,” Konoha grumbled.

“Hey Akaashi! We still waiting on Saru?”

“I’m here,” Sarukui appeared from the side-alley next the combini.

“Ok, now that we’re all here, let’s go,” Konoha stated grumpily as he slurped down the last of his coffee and tossed the can into one of the recycling bins outside the combini.

Akaashi followed the second-years as they trekked towards the school. Komi and Sarukui chatted about a reality TV program they had both watched last night while Konoha looked like he might fall back asleep at any moment.

When they reached the school grounds, they noticed some of Ubugawa’s players were milling around the dorm, eating breakfast and laughing cheerfully amongst themselves. From the looks of it, some of them looked to have already been on their morning runs.

“They’re early risers,” Sarukui commented.

“Yeah,” Komi laughed. “Unlike someone we know.”

“Shut it,” Konoha answered grumpily.

They finally reached the gym and Akaashi was surprised to hear the sound of a volleyballs thudding into the court. The thuds sounded like serves.

‘ _Ubugawa’s players sure are dedicated to their serves,_ ’ Akaashi thought to himself.

To his surprise, when they entered the gym, Akaashi found both Bokuto and Gōra hard at work, practicing their serves.

“Ya think he’s in a better mood?” Komi commented to in no one in particular.

“Hard to tell from here,” Sarukui replied.

“Whatever,” Konoha grumbled. “Let’s just do our warm-up stretches. Akaashi, you be my partner.”

Akaashi was stretching his hamstrings with an assist from Konoha when he heard footsteps approaching them.

“Hey Akaashi.”

Akaashi looked up to see Bokuto towering over him, a hesitant smile on his face.

‘ _It looks like he’s not sulking anymore. But he’s still not his usual self,’_ Akaashi scrutinized the ace.

“Good morning, Bokuto-san,” he greeted the ace.

“You got something else you want say to Akaashi?” Konoha grumbled, “You were a real asshole to him yesterday.”

“Uh yeah,” Bokuto shifted nervously. Belatedly, Akaashi noticed that the ace held a plastic combini bag in his hands.

As if making up his mind, Bokuto crouched down in front of Akaashi and held out the plastic bag.

Akaashi accepted the plastic bag and looked inside. It was filled with different onigiri, all with traditional Japanese flavours.

“Penalty?” Bokuto asked hesitantly.

“Penatly,” Akaashi agreed, pulling out one of the onigiri, unwrapping it and taking a bite.

Bokuto grinned brightly in response.

“Oh my god you guys are such weirdos,” Konoha groaned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> This chapter came along a lot more smoothly than the last chapter (which I still hate). 
> 
> I think I need to change or beef up the story's summary since it's a bit generic. Not sure what I should put though... something to ponder for later. 
> 
> Thank you to all who continue to read despite my sporadic updates. I really appreciate all the comments!
> 
> ~Mari


	11. Uniforms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Japan entering the rainy season, the members of Fukurodani VBC spend a weekend in Saitama, training with the members of Shinzen High's volleyball team. Akaashi feels the weight of responsibility in becoming the team's starting setter but is surprised when Bokuto asks him to teach him a new technique.

Akaashi hurried towards the back gates of Fukurodani’s campus. Today was not his morning. He’d woken up late after staying up until the early morning hours to finish all his assignments and get ahead on his readings for the next week since he would be busy all weekend with the volleyball club’s training camp at Shinzen Highschool’s campus in Saitama. Added to that, the Regionals were starting next week. 

He’d just finished dropping off his assignments with his homeroom teacher, who had insisted on asking him about the club until he’d very politely extricated himself, explaining that he was running late. And now he was sprinting towards their designated meeting point by the back gates.

As he rounded the corner around the athletic building, he caught sight of a mini-bus painted in Fukurodani’s colours parked at the back gate.

‘ _I must be late,’_ Akaashi internally chastised himself.

“Ah, there you are,” Shirofuku greeted him with a smile, checking his name off on her clipboard. “We were starting to get worried, you’re usually early.”

“I’m sorry I’m late Shirofuku-san,” Akaashi gasped, trying to catch his breath.

“No worries!” Suzumeda popped her head out from the bus, “You made it with 2 minutes to spare! Yukie-senpai, I’ve checked all the supplies, we’re all good here!”

Akaashi climbed onto the bus to see their new assistant coach sitting behind the wheel of the bus. “Good morning Kobayashi-sensei,” he greeted the taciturn man who nodded a greeting in return.

“Akaashi!!!”

Akaashi turned to see Bokuto waving at him enthusiastically. “Akaashi! I saved ya a seat!”

Akaashi made his way to the second row of the bus where Bokuto moved his bag aside to allow Akaashi to sit next to him.

“Thank you for saving me a seat, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi didn’t mention that there were plenty of open seats still remaining. ‘ _No surprise since we lost half of the team.’_

Across from them sat Komi and Konoha, the light-haired all-rounder looking perturbed about the early morning hour. Behind them sat Mizuoka and Sarukui, the latter who greeted him with a small wave. Washio and Kawamura sat the back, talking in low tones and the two other first-years sat diagonally from them, both looking nervous. The team’s bags of supplies and equipment were loaded up in the middle seats and the back cargo area of the bus.

Suzumeda sat at the front of the bus and was soon joined by Shirofuku who announced that Coach Yamiji was on his way.

“Are ya excited Akaashi? I’m excited! This time we’re gonna win all our practice matches!”

“Ah, sure…” Akaashi replied on autopilot. His brain was foggy with lack of sleep and his stomach was protesting the lack of breakfast.

‘ _I didn’t even have time to stop by the combini for some food…’_ Akaashi grumbled to himself.

“You could stand to be a little more fired up ya know?” Bokuto retorted. “Hey, you don’t look so good… are ya hungry or something?”

Before he could lie, Akaashi was betrayed by his stomach when it gurgled loudly, causing Komi to burst into laughter.

“Hang on, I’ve got some food,” Bokuto grabbed his bag from where it sat at his feet and began rummaging. “I brought lots of extras for us to eat during the trip.”

“Ah, thank you but…” Akaashi began to refuse out of habit when Bokuto shoved an onigiri and yogurt drink into his cheek.

“Penalty! Now you have to eat it!” Bokuto grinned happily.

“Oh my god,” Konoha groaned. “It’s too early in the morning for whatever kind of weird game you two are playing…”

“Anyone got any coffee for Mr. Grouch?” Komi piped up.

“Here, Komi-yan,” Sarukui tossed a can of coffee to Komi. “I brought extra too.”

“Thanks Saru!”

“I brought jelly cups for the trip!” Suzumeda passed around a bag around the bus.

Bokuto dug into his bag and pulled out another onigiri and a yakisoba pan. “Yukippe! I brought ya an onigiri too!”

“Eh~? Just one?” the manager complained as she accepted the onigiri with a lazy grin.

Akaashi’s eyes just about bugged out of his head when he saw the manager peel pack the plastic wrapper and finish off the rice ball in two large bites.

Coach Yamiji stepped onto the bus, nodding to the assistant coach, “We’re all set to go.”

“Good morning Coach!” the whole team greeted the spectacled coach, save for Konoha who let out an unintelligible groan.

“Good morning team! I see that we’re all in good spirits,” Coach Yamiji smiled to the team, taking his seat at the front, “Well, most of us anyways.”

Coach Yamiji’s quip earned him a laugh from the team and another groan from Konoha.

The bus pulled away from the school and soon Akaashi felt himself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

“Akaashi! Wake up! We’re here!”

Akaashi awoke to find his head pillowed against Bokuto’s shoulder. “What? Oh sorry!” he apologized automatically, pushing himself upright.

“S’all good,” Bokuto grinned. “Ya looked pretty tired.”

Disembarking from the bus with the rest of the team, Akaashi alighted to find two managers and what looked to be the coach from Shinzen greeting Coach Yamiji.

“Their gymnasium is huge!” Komeda commented in awe.

“Yeah, and that’s only their main gymnasium. They have two other sub-gymnasiums too,” Mizuoka informed them, slinging his bag over his broad shoulders. “This is their secondary campus, dedicated to athletics. Visitor dorms are this way.”

Akaashi took in the large campus, overflowing with greenery. He spotted several fields beyond the gymnasiums as well as open spaces for outdoor exercises.

“Ugh, it looks like the rainy season’s gonna start,” Konoha groused as he looked up at the dark clouds forming in the skies.

“Yeah,” Komi agreed, following the jack-of-all-trades up the hill towards what Akaashi guessed was the visitors’ dorms.

Bokuto had run ahead as soon as they’d disembarked and was already setting up his things when Akaashi arrived at the large room the team would be sharing for the weekend.

“Come set up next to me Akaashi!” Bokuto pointed to the folded up futon next to him.

“Your funeral,” Konoha commented light-heartedly as he pushed past him into the room, seemingly more awake than he was earlier.

Akaashi set his things down next to the ace’s, pulling out his practice uniform and listening with half an ear to Bokuto’s excited ramblings.

* * *

“Right!” Konoha called for the toss.

Akaashi tossed, feeling more confident with the type of toss that suited the all-rounder best.

“Two-man block!” Komi called out to his teammate in warning.

Konoha managed to evade the spikers but his spike was picked up by Shinzen’s libero.

“Got it!” Komi dug up Shinzen’s spike.

“They’re going for another combo!” Sarukui called from the back line.

Akaashi got under the ball but noticed that its trajectory was slightly off course.

‘ _Too close to the net, this will be hard to set,_ ’ Akaashi thought to himself. An idea occurred to him and he jumped, faking a setter dump. The blockers took the bait and jumped to block.

Akaashi purposefully hit the ball against the blockers outstretched arms.

The ball rebounded back onto Fukurodani’s court and the ref blew the whistle.

“Sorry,” Akaashi apologized to the team in general.

“Ok, break!” the two Coaches called.

Akaashi wiped the sweat from his eyes and made his way over the refreshments table that Fukurodani’s managers had set up for the team, picking up the ball as he went.

“Hey Akaashi, what was that?” Bokuto asked, having sat out the last practice match. “The blockers totally slammed that down!”

“Ah,” Akaashi replied. “The rebound? The ball was difficult to toss so I thought I might try to regroup and give us the chance to try again. I was unsuccessful, though…”

“Teach me!”

“Eh?” Akaashi retorted, completely bewildered. ‘ _He wants me to teach him a failed play?’_

“Why do ya look so confused?” Bokuto looked at him expectantly. “Teach me!”

“Ah, nothing really, Bokuto-san. I was just thinking you wouldn’t be interested in such a dull play as a rebound. You seem to prefer the flashier plays, scoring with a bang or going up against the blockers in a mid-air battle.”

Bokuto’s expression turned oddly contemplative before he answered seriously. “Don’t think about what’s easy. Think about what’s fun!”

“Pardon?” Akaashi was flummoxed. ‘ _Flashy plays are exactly what Bokuto-san would consider as fun…’_

“I had a coach when I was younger, he always used to say that. He also made all these run all these drills and learn all these techniques. And that wasn’t fun. But getting blocked, messing up a receive or getting tired, none of that’s fun either. That’s why I wanna score ‘em all, save ‘em all and win ‘em all!”

Konoha and Sarukui who had been sitting nearby, resting up while rehydrating laughed to themselves.

“No kidding,” Konoha chortled. “Of course it’d ben fun to win every game!”

“Or boring. ’Oh my,’” Sarukui said in a false falsetto. “I’m so bored of winning!’”

“What are ya? Some kinda genius villain character?” Komi joined in the fun, sauntering over from the table where he’d grabbed a cup of water.

‘ _So Bokuto-san equates success with ‘fun’.’_ Akaashi deduced. ‘ _It’s an odd sentiment but it makes sense in a way… but…’_

“Winning them all? That seems a little impossible Bokuto-san, in fact we’ve already lost two games today.”

“Akaashi! Stop being such a cynic!” Bokuto groused.

“Ah, sorry,” Akaashi apologized out of habit.

“Hey, what’s ‘cynic’ mean again?” Bokuto asked the others, unfazed by Akaashi’s bluntness.

“What?” Konoha laughed. “You were the one that used the word ‘cynic’!”

“I think you used it correctly though,” Sarukui answered with a grin.

“Well yeah, but what does it mean?”

The team broke down in laughter, the mood completely elevated.

* * *

Eight hours later, Akaashi was headed back towards the team’s shared room, carrying his toiletries after having finished his bath.

Their practice matches had gone slightly better than last week’s. Despite his sore muscles, Akaashi was grateful for the chance to play in more matches, it was helping him hone his skills and work out the nerves that he felt when thinking about the upcoming Kanto Regionals.

Entering the large room, he saw Sarukui lounging on his futon, eyes closed, listening to music. Komi was sitting on his own futon, earphones in, laughing at some comedy show he was watching on his phone. Konoha and the first years had still been in the large communal bath when he had left and he guessed that his remaining teammates were still in the cafeteria, catching up with the members of Shinzen High.

As he was putting away his toiletries, Akaashi noticed that the rain was finally starting to let up. It had started raining heavily, shortly after they had begun their practice matches, a consistent downpour that had continued into the dinner hour. Akaashi contemplated for a moment before making up his mind and grabbing a novel from his bag and heading out of the room. Komi waved to him on his way out, his eyes remaining glued to his phone.

After taking a few turns, Akaashi finally found the spot he had seen earlier, a small, sheltered alcove outside of the dorms. He took on a seat on the bench placed there and inhaled deeply, savouring the fresh air that filled his lungs.

Akaashi loved the scent of the air during a heavy summer rain, the fresh, humid air was a calming balm on his usually frayed nerves. Akaashi guessed it had something to do with the rain washing everything away, leaving everything clean and tranquil, with the sound of the rain drowning out all other sounds.

Akaashi placed his novel next to him and clasped his hands on his lap, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall, listening intently to the soothing sounds of the falling raindrops.

He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there when the door to the alcove banged open and Bokuto appeared.

“Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi! Whatcha doing?”

Akaashi cracked open his eyes to glance at the ace, the light from the hallway illuminating his large figure.

“Oh.. sorry, were ya meditating or something?”

Akaashi contemplated the question briefly. “Or something,” he replied.

“Oh.” Bokuto stepped into the alcove, the door closing behind him, and enveloping them in darkness. “Today was fun, right?”

“Yes, it was better than last weekend,” Akaashi agreed.

“Didja see my awesome cross-spikes?”

“I did. They were amazing, Bokuto-san.”

“I’m known for them ya know?”

“Your cross-spikes? That’s not surprising,” Akaashi replied. It was rare for a high school student to be able to execute such sharp cross-spikes, it took a lot of shoulder strength and flexibility. The spike was high level, even for professional players. ‘ _Although half of his sharp cross-shots are purely luck, as opposed to being intentional,_ ’ Akaashi thought to himself. Sometimes Akaashi worried about Bokuto’s shoulder, but the ace showed no signs of fatigue or pain and the setter had noticed that the ace took special care in stretching out his shoulder before and after practice.

‘ _What am I worrying about,’_ Akaashi internally chastised himself. ‘ _He’s an Alpha, they’re physically superior.’_

“Whatcha reading?” Bokuto pointed to book sitting abandoned next to Akaashi’s thigh.

“Kokoro by Natsume Soseki,” Akaashi replied. A story about the relationship between an impressionable man and his teacher, it was a classic that Akaashi was reading partly for his literature class and partly out of his own interest.

“Hey! I recognized that name! He’s a famous author right?”

“Of course you would Bokuto-san. It’s required reading for all first-years.”

“Eh?” Bokuto looked sheepish. “I don’t remember reading it at all.”

Akaashi simply gave him a pointed look.

“So why are ya out here? Were the guys being too loud?”

“Ah, no,” Akaashi was going to leave it at that but Bokuto was looking at him expectantly. “I like the summer rainy season.”

“Eh?” Bokuto raised a brow.

“The rain during the summer, I find it calmling. Because while it’s raining, all you hear is the sound of the rain falling, and everything is calm. And when the rain ends, it’s like everything has been washed away, everything smells so fresh and pure. I find it comforting.”

“Uh.. I don’t really get it? But I don’t mind the rain! A lotta people complain but I don’t think it’s so bad. Maybe ‘cause volleyball is an indoor sport?”

“Not beach volleyball.” Akaashi corrected on autopilot but the ace didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh yeah! You’re right! Have you played beach volleyball too, Akaashi?”

The setter shook his head. “No, I’ve never played beach volleyball.” ‘ _I don’t know that I’ve even been to the beach before. Maybe during an elementary school field trip?_ ’ Akaashi searched his memories and came up empty. A foreboding sense of pressure washed over him and his fingers began to twitch. Thinking of his past reminded him of his parents’ expectations, and even though the volleyball club had been a welcome distraction, the burden always hung heavy in the back of his mind.

“Hey Akaashi, where’d ya learn the rebound?”

“What?” Akaashi was pulled from his dark thoughts. “Oh. There’s a coach in the US that posts YouTube video tutorials. I’ve been watching them for the last month, trying to find ways to improve my skills.”

“Show me!” Bokuto grinned brightly.

“Ah, sure, but I left my phone back in our room.”

“Let’s watch it there then! Unless ya wanna stay out here for a bit longer?”

“No, it’s fine, we should probably be heading back to our room anyways.”

When they reached their team dorm room, Akaashi realized that he’d been outside for longer than he thought. All the team members were back in the room with the two other first years already asleep in their futons. Washio, Mizuoka, Kawamura and Konoha were playing cards in a corner of the room. Komi and Sarukui were eating snacks together while flipping through a sports magazine.

Akaashi headed towards his bag that was sitting at the head of his folded-up futon. He pulled out his phone and a pair of headphones and unfolded his futon. Bokuto followed, suit unfolding his own futon and pushing it up flush against Akaashi’s and flopping down with a happy huff, stretching out to his full height before grabbing his pillow and propping himself up on his stomach.

Following the ace’s cue, Akaashi propped his phone at the head of their futons on a neatly folded stack of his extra practice clothes. He plugged in his headphones and offered one earbud to the ace before settling himself next to the ace and starting the rebound tutorial.

The ace was surprising calm and focused as he watched the video intently. “Let’s watch it again,” he announced when the video ended. They watched it a total of five times before Bokuto insisted that they watch another tutorial video and a few matches with professional volleyball players executing a rebound.

By the tenth video, Akaashi’s eyelids became heavy and he struggled to stay awake, his lack of sleep catching up to him.

He hadn’t realized that he’d fallen asleep until he awoke, his mind fuzzy, to realize that the room’s lights had been turned off and someone had draped a light blanket over him. He groggily looked up to see a smiling Sarukui draping another blanket over the ace who had rolled away from Akaashi and was snoring away, limbs askew in the shape of a starfish, a large smile on his face as he slept.

Sarukui noticed Akaashi’s gaze and grinned at him, raising a finger to his lips. “Goodnight” the smiling second-year mouthed as Akaashi fell asleep once again.

* * *

“One more time!”

The garbled shout was Akaashi’s only warning before he felt a large palm make impact with his back with a loud smack. Akaashi practically flew from his futon in shock.

Disoriented, Akaashi crouched at the foot of his futon and looked around him in a daze. 

“Nrgh… nice toss!” Bokuto mumbled in his sleep as he rolled onto Akaashi’s futon. 

“You ok?” Akaashi muffled an exclamation of surprise at the sound of Konoha’s voice. The second year was sitting up in his futon, looking towards the ace with a combination of exasperation and bemusement.

“Ah, yes, I’m fine. Just a little surprised,” Akaashi replied in a whisper.

“What’s going on?” Apparently Washio had also awoken.

“Bokuto’s playing volleyball in his sleep again,” Konoha replied with a huff, getting out of his futon.

“Again?”

“Again! Reset!” Bokuto flailed in his sleep, his hand swiping at the air.

To Akaashi’s shock, Konoha walked over to Bokuto’s sleeping form and began hitting him with his pillow. “Settle down!”

“Don’t worry, he does this from time to time. He’ll settle down soon,” Washio stepped towards them and rolled Bokuto back onto his own futon. The ace soon settled down and resumed his snoring from before.

“Bokuto must have been worked up before he went to sleep,” Washio commented.

“Is this what you meant when you said ‘your funeral’, Konoha-san?” Akaashi asked.

“Hmm? Nah. I meant the snoring. He’s usually a deep sleeper. You can’t wake him, see?” Konoha flicked the ace’s forehead and Bokuto continued to snore away.

“Want to trade places?” Washio offered.

“No, I think I’ll be fine, thank you Washio-san.”

“If he gets restless again, just give a few good hits with your pillow,” Konoha yawned.

“Ah… yes,” Akaashi replied, a little doubtful of the second-year’s violent solution.

“Goodnight,” the two second-years retreated back to their futons.

Akaashi laid back down on his futon, pulling his blanket partway up his body, ignoring the stinging sensation between his shoulder blades. ‘ _Washio-san said Boktuo-san must have been worked up before going to sleep… but why.’_

Akaashi mulled the question over in his head as he was slowly lulled back to sleep by the sound of Bokuto’s soft snoring. It wasn’t loud or annoying. ‘ _It’s oddly comforting,_ ’ Akaashi thought to himself. ‘ _I wonder if it’s like a cat’s purr?’_

Just as he was to drift off into a deep sleep, a thought occurred to Akaashi.

‘ _Ah, I think I know. Bokuto-san was excited about learning a new technique… he was probably dreaming about it, maybe even practicing it in his sleep.’_

* * *

“Akaashi! Get up! Let’s go for a run before breakfast!”

“Mgh?” Akaashi grunted, feeling his shoulder being roughly shaken.

“Come on Akaashi! Get up!”

‘ _Ah right, I’m at a training camp right now,’_ Akaashi finally pieced together why he was being shaken awake by the ace.

“Good morning, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He grabbed his phone and checked the time. 5:45 am. Apparently the ace was an early riser.

“Ugghhh…. Stop being so loud first thing in the morning!” Konoha groaned, covering his head with his pillow. Next to him, Komi sat up on his futon, stretching his arms towards the ceiling and yawning widely.

“Good morning,” Washio greeted the room as he entered, his bag of toiletries in hand. ‘ _Washio-san is an early riser too… He seems to be completely put together already.’_

“Hey Washio,” Sarukui, who had been sleeping closest to the door, greeted the tall middle-blocker. “Early as always.”

Mizuoka and Kawamura’s futons were empty. Akaashi guessed that they too were early risers and had likely gotten up around the same time as Washio. The first years remained fast asleep in their futons.

“Akaashi!” Akaashi blinked. Bokuto was now kneeling on his futon, directly in front of him, his eyes wide and expectant.

“Ah, sure. Just let me brush my teeth and wash my face first, Bokuto-san.”

“I’ll come with!” Bokuto grinned widely, grabbing his bag of toiletries.

Akaashi followed the exuberant ace at a more sedate pace towards the bathrooms, passing Mizuoka and Kawamura who were on their way back to the room.

Once in the bathroom, Bokuto dumped out the contents of his toiletry bag, scrabbling around for his toothbrush and toothpaste. Akaashi thought it was a miracle that the ace didn’t lose half of its contents.

“Let’s try the rebound today!” Bokuto exclaimed around his toothbrush.

Akaashi simply nodded.

Bokuto continued to chatter on about what he wanted to do that day, only pausing to greet Konoha who had sleepily shuffled into the bathroom.

“You need to apologize to Akaashi.”

“Huh?”

“You hit him last night,” Konoha grumbled, squeezing a large dollop of toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

“I hit Akaashi?” Bokuto looked distraught.

“More like spiked him,” Sarukui grinned as he joined them.

“You were awake too?” Konoha turned his grouchy gaze onto the smiling spiker.

“You and Washio had it handled.”

“Lazy ass,” Konoha snarked.

“Who’s lazy?” Komi piped in, arriving a few moments after Sarukui.

“Saru. He faked being asleep instead of helping me and Washio out when Bokuto started flailing around in his sleep.”

“Oh, you mean when he?” Komi jumped up in the air and brought his hand down on the long bathroom counter with a bang and then skipped around swinging at the air shouting “Left! Left! One more!”

“Assholes,” Konoha grumbled around his toothbrush.

“How’s your back?” Sarukui asked the setter with a sympathetic glance. “It sounded like it hurt.”

Akaashi shrugged his shoulders experimentally and only felt a small twinge. He’d completely forgotten about the events of last night until the second-years had brought it up.

“Yeah, you must have a wicked bruise,” Komi commented, having finished his pantomime.

“It doesn’t hurt – AH!” Akaashi exclaimed in shock when he felt the back of his shirt suddenly pulled up. “What are you doing Bokuto-san!?” he demanded as he hurriedly yanked his shirt back down.

“I wanna see if there’s a bruise!”

“Bokuto-san, it’s rude to suddenly lift up people’s shirts.”

“Eh? Why? I’ve already seen you naked.”

Komi and Sarukui erupted into peals of laughter. “Oh my god. I can totally see him saying that to a girl some day.” Sarukui laughed, wiping tears from his eyes.

Konoha spat his toothpaste into one of the communal sinks and gargled with water. “Bokuto,” he grabbed the ace by the shoulder and steered him out of the communal bathroom. “There’s a difference between sharing a communal changing room with someone and undressing someone. Plus, you’re not supposed to look!”

Komi and Sarukui laughed even harder.

* * *

“The bus leaves in 40 minutes. Hit the showers, grab your gear and meet at the bus in 35 minutes!” Captain Kawamura announced.

“Yes Captain!” The team filtered out of the gym after their last practice match of the weekend.

Akaashi was the last the enter the communal shower room, having taken an extra minute to carefully pack of his belongings and fold up his futon. He sat down on the stool in front of the only vacant shower. He was busily scrubbing shampoo into his hair when he felt a light touch on his back, right between his shoulder blades.

“Your back’s kinda red. Sorry.”

He turned to see the ace sitting next to him, his hair wet and plastered to his head.

“It’s fine Bokuto-san. I know you didn’t mean to. You were dreaming of doing rebounds, weren’t you?”

Bokuto’s jaw dropped in shock. “How do ya know that!?!”

“It was easy to guess Bokuto-san.”

“Akaashi! You’re so smart!”

“Bokuto, stop gawking at Akaashi and go dry off,” Konoha smacked Bokuto’s head as he walked past.

When Akaashi finished his shower, he found Bokuto standing in front of the mirrors by the communal sinks, towel slung around his hips, drying his hair.

It never failed to amuse Akaashi to see the ace blow-drying his hair. To achieve his signature look, Bokuto quickly dried the back of his head before pointing the dryer straight at his face at the highest setting. Often times, the ace would make funny faces in the mirror, amusing himself by the way his cheeks puffed up from the force of the dryer.

Akaashi’s own short hair air-dried quickly so he didn’t bother with a hair dryer. He walked past the ace and into the shared dorm room, hurriedly donning his clothes, keeping an eye on the clock. He noticed that Bokuto’s pajamas – more accurately the T-shirt and shorts he had slept in – were thrown haphazardly on his unmade futon. With a sigh, Akaashi folded them up and placed them in Bokuto’s bags and tied up and folded Bokuto’s futon for good measure.

“Thanks, Akaashi!” Bokuto grinned when he entered the room, his hair styled into its usual peaks.

“We should hurry Bokuto-san, we are the last ones.”

The setter and the ace jogged to the bus in time to see Coach Yamiji and Coach Arakawa, Shinzen’s assistant coach, exchange pleasantries.

“Thank you again for accommodating us on such short notice.”

“It was our pleasure Yamiji-sensei. We always welcome extra practice. It’s too bad Nekoma wasn’t able to join us this time. But we’ll see you all when you host next month.”

“Yes, we’re looking forward to it. We’ll see you at Regionals before then.”

“Best of luck Yamiji-sensei, you definitely have your hands full with the sudden… changes to your roster. But I trust that, under your guidance, your team will pull through.”

“Thank you, Arakawa-sensei. Please extend my thanks to Sasagawa-sensei.”

Akaashi boarded the bus and sat down in an empty seat. He wasn’t surprised when Bokuto-san plopped down next to him with a grin.

Suzumeoka bounded onto the bus with a large smile. “Mako-chan made us onigiri for the trip back! Hurry and grab one before Yukie-senpai eats them all!”

“How hurtful Koari-chan!” Shirofuku boarded the bus at a more languid pace. “I’ve only eaten three so far.”

Bokuto grabbed two onigiri from the blonde-haired manager, as she moved down the aisle of the bus, and handed one to Akaashi.

Akaashi bit into his onigiri as the bus pulled away from Shinzen’s second campus, the members of Shinzen’s team waving to them from the steps leading to the main gymnasium.

“Are ya excited for Regionals Akaashi? It’s gonna be awesome!” Bokuto asked around a mouthful of onigiri.

“Mmm.” Akaashi replied noncommittally. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the upcoming tournament. Part of him just accepted it as part of being on the volleyball team. Part of him agonized and worried about letting the team down with his lack of experience.

Bokuto didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. “Hey, let’s watch some more videos!”

“Ah, sure,” Akaashi pulled out his phone and earphones, passing one bud to the ace.

* * *

Before he realized it, the hour-long bus ride was over and they were pulling up to Fukurodani’s back gates.

“Good work this weekend. We’re going to have a short meeting in the gym and then you can all go home.” Coach Yamiji announced.

The members of the team filed into the gym, looking at the Coach expectantly. “They should be here soon,” Coach Yamiji responded to their curious stares.

Suzumeda and Shirofuku soon arrived, carrying two cardboard boxes. “They’re all cleaned and ready to go Coach.”

“Suzumeda and Shirofuku have been busy preparing your uniforms for this year,” Coach Yamiji smiled. “Unfortunately, there were some changes that happened after we put in the orders for this year’s uniforms so the numbers aren’t quite in order.”

Coach Yamiji picked up the first jersey, with its reverse colouring of white sleeves and a black body. “As per your request Komi-kun, #11, the same as last year.”

“Hey hey! Lucky #11!” Komi grinned as he went up to accept his new uniform from the coach.

“Mizuoka,” Coach Yamiji called, handing the starting libero a jersey with the same reverse colouring and the number ‘3’.

“Kawamura,” Coach Yamiji announced, handing the Captain a jersey with ‘1’ emblazoned on it with the mark below the ‘1’, designating him as captain. “Wear it proudly, Captain.”

“Washio,” the Coach called next, holding up a jersey with the number ‘5’’. “We didn’t have time to change the numbering, but, it probably comes to no surprise to the team that Washio will be replacing Okano as Vice-Captain of the team.”

“Congrats Washio!” Komi clapped his hands.

“You earned it man!” Konoha chimed in.

Sarukui patted the tall middle-blocker’s shoulder in congratulations. 

“Hey, hey, hey for Tatsu!” Bokuto joined in with the rest of the second-years in congratulating Washio.

“Thank you,” Washio inclined his head seriously.

“Next is Konoha,” Coach Yamiji held up a jersey with the number ‘7’.

“Lucky number 7!” Komi grinned at his teammate who seemed unconvinced.

“Sarukui.” Sarukui accepted a jersey with the number ‘8’.

“Akaashi, our starting setter.” Akaashi went up to the front and solemnly accepted the jersey emblazoned with the number ‘10’. The weight of his uniform felt heavy in his hands, the weight of responsibility.

Komeda and Gotou received uniforms with the numbers ‘13’ and ‘14’, respectively.

“And last but not least,” Fukurodani’s coach looked over to where Bokuto was bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. “Bokuto, #4, the number traditionally given to the team’s ace.”

“Hey, hey, hey! I’m the strongest!” Bokuto celebrated, holding his new jersey up over his head.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sarukui, Komi and Konoha cheered back to the ace.

“Hey Akaashi! Isn’t this awesome? I’m officially the ace!”

“Ah, yes Bokuto-san. That’s very impressive.”

“Right!?” Bokuto grinned brightly. “Kanto Regionals here we come!” Bokuto dashed out of the gym, his jersey held high above his head.

“Uh… dismissed, I guess?” Coach Yamiji laughed.

“Where’s he going?” Sarukui laughed.

“The Regionals?” Komi answered rhetorically.

“Hey, he knows the Regionals don’t start until Thursday, right?” Konoha asked no one in particular.

“Hey guys!” Bokuto shouted from the courtyard outside of the gym. “Are ya coming?”

“Hold your horses, we’re coming, _Ace_ ,” Sarukui answered good-naturedly, picking up his bags and heading out of the gym.

“Wait up _Ace_!” Komi jogged to catch up with Sarukui.

“Come on Akaashi, let’s go,” Konoha patted him on the shoulder. “We’re gonna have our hands full this tournament.”

Akaashi walked at a more sedate pace with Konoha to join Bokuto and the others, a silent-Washio bringing up the rear.

“Let’s go!” Bokuto announced cheerily, leading the way towards the school’s front gates.

“But seriously,” Sarukui whispered, “Where are we going?”

“Home, I hope,” Konoha answered wearily. “I’m beat.”

Akaashi walked along with the others, feeling oddly calm. For a minute he struggled to identify this new feeling of contentment.

_‘Ah’_ Akaashi realized, looking down at the black, white and gold uniform in his hands.

For the first time, he felt like he belonged.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All and Happy New Year! Hopefully 2021 will be a better year than 2020!
> 
> Lots of important bits in this chapter that will tie in to Part II of this story (if I ever get there). 
> 
> Thank you all for continuing to read! The story is continuing to crawl along but hopefully will pick up the pace starting with the next chapter (I feel like I've said that before...)
> 
> Part of this chapter borrows heavily from the manga, but with some modifications. Also, in Japan, communal bathing is more common than it is in N. America (can't speak for any other places since I don't know). I tried to describe it in the story, and if you've seen the latest episode of Haikyuu, you'll have a decent image of what the bathing areas are like.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy and thank you for the comments! They are very motivating!
> 
> ~Mari


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